Embers
by mbarry
Summary: The fire which seems extinguished oft slumbers beneath the ashes'. Alternate sequel to Firestarter by Stephen King. Charlie has a child of her own and a new life, but some flames just won't die.
1. Prologue

Vicki was waiting in the infirmary, with a nurse beside her. She was happy to see Charlie. 'Mama' she said, raising her hands to be picked up.

The nurse smiled. 'She's all right Mrs. Wainright'.

Charlie gathered Vicki up into her arms and smoothed her hair away from her face. A butterfly band-aid covered a small cut on her forehead. A light bruising radiated out from it. She pulled Vicki close and breathed in her scent.

'You ok baby?' Vicki nodded.

Charlie looked over at the nurse. The nurse anticipated the question. 'Just a scratch on the forehead. You can take her home for the rest of the day.' Charlie pulled Vicki away from her and onto the bed, with its blue hospital issue blanket, then stood up and straightened herself. 'Come on Vicki, let's go home.'

Vicki hopped down from the bed and took her hand. The nurse opened the door. 'Don't worry, they do these things.'

Charlie scowled. 'Not to my daughter they don't.' the nurse stepped back to allow them through.

Charlie and Vicki walked down the centre of the main hall. Light came through the windows of the classrooms, passing through the filter of children, paper cutouts, streamers and science projects until it merged with the downdraft of light from the skylights.

Charlie looked for the colorful dragon she had helped Vicki make. The dragon was still high on its perch on a corner of the ceiling, guarding an empty classroom.

Charlie stuck her head in through the open door and checked anyway. 'Great. They throw stones and then they go out on an excursion.' Charlie made a face. Vicki made a face back. 'Ms Putnam will just have to get a piece of my mind a bit later, won't she?'

The principals' office was ahead, just before the exit. Charlie thought about which particular piece of his ass she would remove. It made her twitch. She took a deep, calming breath.

The door at the end of the corridor burst open and the Principal came running down the corridor. Charlie's first thought was to ball her fist and pop him one, but as he ran towards her, she saw him looking past her. He was white; sweating white. Mrs. Miller, the secretary came bustling out after him. They ran past Charlie & Vicki without a glance.

Charlie watched them as they passed. 'I'm not _that_ scary.' she thought. She looked down at Vicki, who gave a yawn. 'Let's go home.'

They walked down the stairs and out into the assembly area. Most of the leaves had relinquished their hold on the trees, making them seem taller. Charlie checked to make sure Vicki was rugged up and warm, doing up the last two buttons at her neck.

'There. All done. Got your mittens on?' Vicki held out her hands for inspection and they began walking towards the car park. 'You didn't tell me there was an excursion today.'

Vicki shrugged. 'Maybe they went to the lake.'

More people were running out from the building now. Mr. Goff from 5C came scrambling down the stairs and past them.

'Hey, Mr. Goff!' Charlie called as he ran. Mr. Goff didn't see or hear them. He ran to the car park and jumped into his car.

Charlie and Vicki followed. As they reached the car, Charlie stopped to listen. Sirens. Charlie opened up the car and lifted Vicki up and onto the backseat, fastening the seatbelt. Something crossed her mind. 'Why did they go to the lake Vicki?'

Vicki played with her mittens. 'Grandpa Ben told me if the boys were mean to me they could all go jump in the lake, so I told them to.'

Charlie stopped moving. Her breath froze. 'You told them to go jump in the lake?'

Vicki nodded. 'Even Ms Putnam went.'

Charlie bit down on the nausea. 'Ok baby. Let's go home' She closed the car door.

More sirens now. The cold, clear air carried them to her.

Inside the car, Vicki was fogging the window with her breath and drawing smiley faces.

--

Cynthia found Charlie sitting on the porch, staring out into the darkness, rain beating down about her unnoticed. Cynthia scolded 'You'll catch a death' and dragged her unwillingly into the house.

Charlie tried to shake her off. At least outside the summer storm hid the sounds of her crying.

Cynthia looked into her face and found a glimpse of the small girl she had first met. The lost and searching eyes of a ten year old.

'It never ends' mumbled Charlie. 'It never ever ends.'

Cynthia's heart ached for her. As helpless as she could be, she hugged Charlie until the dampness spread through her own clothes and rolls of thunder from outside near the lake shook the wooden house. She raised Charlie's arms over her head to help her out of her wet clothes, as if she'd been playing out in the summer storm; time was running backwards tonight.

Charlie raised her arms robotically as Cynthia pulled her shirt away and began to towel her down.

"Now you don't worry yourself, we'll find some help…' Cynthia soothed.

Charlie grabbed Cynthia's arm. 'Don't you understand? She's got it. She's cursed. Just like me.'

Cynthia felt a warming from Charlie's grip. The moisture from the rain was evaporating quickly, steam rising from around Charlie.

'Charlie!' she gasped in rising panic and jerked her hand away. Charlie watched numbly as she clutched at her arm. Cynthia was scared of her; again.

'Cynthia, I'm sorry, let me get you some ice.' Charlie rushed to the chest freezer. The ice packs were still stacked in piles. She grabbed an ice pack and cloth and placed it over the reddening handprint on Cynthia's arm.

Cynthia dropped onto the couch, looking pale. Charlie sat beside her, looking for signs of shock. Cynthia took a deep breath and moved the icepack. 'Just like old times huh?' Charlie laughed, the tension escaping.

Cynthia smiled and put her good arm around her. Charlie clung to her adopted mother and cried uncontrollably. Cynthia hugged her. 'We will find help Charlie, somehow we'll find help. Ben'll know what to do.'

--

The nurse admitted a pretty young mother in to see the Doctor, a short, balding and bespectacled man in a brown suit and tie so long from fashion it had become trendy once again. He rose to greet her.

'Miss Charlie, your father has spoken so much about you' he said, giving a white toothed smile. 'Please, take a seat'. Charlie sat, putting her purse onto the second chair.

'Both of my parents are dead. Ben is my…grandfather.' she lied. It was the same lie, so aged and repeated it had become truth.

The doctor shook his head. 'Ah. I am sorry to learn.' he said, fussing through his papers for a notepad. 'He has said you have some behavioural troubles with his grand…great grand daughter.'

Charlie drew in a breath, then opened her purse and showed the Doctor a photograph of Vicki 'She's 5.'

The Doctor pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and looked at the photograph. 'She's a very pretty girl, your daughter. What sort of trouble are you having?'

Charlie looked around the office. 'You've been a Doctor for how long?'

Dr Chandrasekhar frowned. 'Miss Charlie, I am sure you do not mean to be rude, but this is a strange question for me.'

'Please.'

The Dr shifted in his seat. 'To answer your question, I studied in Mumbai in India over thirty years ago, served with His Majesty's forces and...'

'Why did you settle here?' Charlie asked.

Dr Chandrasekhar studied Charlie's face for a moment. 'You are very diligent Miss Charlie, perhaps my story will make you more at ease. I too love my family, especially my daughters. When they were admitted to university in America, it was proper I should follow. Their mother, my great love, had passed away also when they were young. She blessed them with her great beauty and her great intelligence and so I knew she would want me to do this.'

He smiled wistfully for a moment. 'They are long since graduated, and married, and now I can see my grand children. It is a small price to pay for living so long outside my homeland.'

He concluded with a clap of his hands. 'Now you have heard my story, you know why I am here. I also know your grandfather as an excellent bowling partner. He has confessed his deep concern for your daughter. He has also told me' he said, leaning gently forward and speaking more softly, 'That you have had a very troubling childhood and that you find it hard to trust.'

He shook his finger at her scowl. 'Don't be mad with him. He answered as I asked. Would I be a good doctor if I did not consider that it may be you, not your daughter, with the difficulty? I must be open to such possibilities.'

Charlie gave a wry smile. 'I have my own problems Dr, but I've made it this far with them. But Vicki.' Charlie shuddered as if a cold wind had blown over her. Dr Chandrasekhar looked about involuntarily to his closed window.

Charlie fought back the tears.

'What is unfair?' Dr Chandrasekhar asked.

Charlie looked at him in panic, as if he could read her thoughts.

The doctor shook his head. 'You said it is unfair. What is unfair?'

Charlie sucked a breath in, tamping down her rising terror. The Doctor took her hand. Charlie jerked it out of his grasp. Undaunted he tried again. 'Let me help Miss Charlie, if it is within my abilities.'

Charlie let the breath out in a ragged sob. 'We're cursed.'

The Doctor gave a short barking laugh, in spite of himself, and immediately started to apologise. Charlie's face hardened and the room warmed.

'I am sorry' he said. 'Even as I was brought up in a 'non christian' background as people do call it, I am not a believer in curses, witchcraft or voodoo, so I cannot accept your problems are a curse. There is always a rational explanation.' He said and waited for her to respond.

Charlie looked at him, through him, outside.

'Dr, I have a rational explanation for our curse, but it's' she coughed. 'hard to take.'

'You will tell me and I will see if I can take it.'

Charlie looked around the surgery. 'Do you have anything in steel, tweezers, anything?'

The Dr opened his mouth, closed it again, stood and stepped around the table. He picked up a steel speculum from a tray and placed it on the desk.

'I must say, Miss Charlie, this is quite the strangest meeting of my day.'

Charlie grinned, picking up the speculum. 'You aint seen nothin' yet doc. Its about to get a lot weirder.' She turned the speculum over in her hands. 'Do you know the melting point of steel?'

He shook his head. 'No.'

Charlie rubbed the steel. 'It's around 2500F, slightly less than raw iron.'

The doctor shrugged in agreement. 'If you say.'

Charlie smiled. 'I know a bit about the melting points of metal, it's what I use for my art.'

'Miss Charlie, I am not sure that this has any bearing on…'.

As Charlie looked at him, the speculum began to glow bright red, holding its shape for a moment before collapsing into a puddle in her palm, smoldering and burning with yellow flame.

The Doctor jumped. 'Miss Charlie!' he exclaimed.

Charlie turned her hand and ran the molten liquid into her other palm. 'Open the window' she said. 'Dr, please open the window.'

The Doctor turned the latch at the top of the window and flung it open.

Charlie carefully cupped the liquid steel and turned her palms out over the snow.

The steel sprinkled out into the snow and dropped through it, hissing. Dr. Chandrasekhar grabbed her wrists and turned her palms upwards. He peered at them, then put his fingers to her palm and rubbed it in disbelief.

'The metal melts away before it touches my skin.' Charlie explained.

The Doctor gaped. 'You are a practical joker with your grandfather, you should be ashamed..' he said, turning bright red.

Charlie plucked the gold coloured pen out of his coat pocket, held it up in front of his eyes and pressed her finger into the metal, pushing easily through the pen, leaving valley in the side.

The Dr muttered an unforgotten prayer from his youth and sat down heavily in his chair. Charlie faced him squarely. 'There may be a rational explanation for this Dr, but neither you or I will find it. A long time ago, some people did some_thing_ to my parents, before I was born. When I was a child, these things started happening. It got stronger as I got older. Once, I almost burned our house down.'

Dr Chandrasekhar's brown skin had gone a light chocolate color. Charlie recognized it as shock. 'Do you need me to show you more?

The Dr quickly shook his head. 'This is incredible. Impossible.'

Charlie grinned. 'Not impossible Doc. Just weird.'

'And this, this is happening with your daughter, this 'impossible'?'

Charlie's brief feeling of control departed rapidly and she deflated into the chair opposite him. 'No. She doesn't have what I have. She inherited something far worse. She inherited my fathers curse.'

The Doctor started to write on a piece of paper; Charlie leaned forward and it burst into light and floated upwards as a piece of ash. 'No notes Doctor.'

The Doctor jumped backwards. 'Miss Charlie!' he exclaimed in fright.

'The people that did this are still out there somewhere Doctor, helping us could make you a target too. Keeping records is bad.'

The Doctor looked at the divot of her fingerprint in his pen and out it down. 'Very well. Tell me about this 'curse'.

Charlie narrowed her eyes, waiting for him to order her and her crazy story out of the surgery. 'My father died saving me from the people who gave us this curse. They wanted him because he could tell people what to do and they would do it. He used to call it the 'push.'. It didn't always work and it caused him a lot of pain. Sometimes he'd bleed from his nose, or his eyes.'

The Doctor reached for his pad to take notes, caught himself mid reach and sat back with an apologetic look. 'So he hemorrhaged when he did this 'push'.

Charlie nodded. 'Headaches, vomiting. One time, when we were caught…' she paused. 'When we were kidnapped by the bad people, they drugged him so much the 'curse' went away.'

'Was that a good thing?' said the Doctor.

Charlie shrugged. 'It came back. He used it to help me escape.'

'And you suffer from Headaches also?'

'Not one. Ever, and my curse was stronger than his and its never gone away.'

The Doctor nodded thoughtfully. 'So you say your daughter has this 'push' curse also?'

Charlie nodded numbly.

He gave her a smile. 'You have rare gifts.'

Charlie looked miserably up at him. 'Doctor, I have a five year old girl who can force anyone, _anyone_ to do exactly what she tells them. When I was a little older than her, I burned three men to death who came to hurt my mom and my dad. But I knew what I was doing; I knew I had to save us from them. But Vicki? Vicki's a five year old, like any other tantrum throwing five year old, except that when she tells someone to jump off a bridge, they walk calmly to the nearest, highest bridge and step off.'

'My God' he said.

Charlie hurried on. 'its only going to get worse as she gets older and I wont be able to control her. And one day, they'll either come for her, or she'll become, she'll become'

Charlie broke down and sobbed.

'A monster' the doctor finished silently; but she was doubled over and couldn't see his lips. The Dr stood and put an arm around her.

--

Vicki fidgeted restlessly. 'But I don't _want_ to stay here' she complained. 'I want..' Charlie put a finger to Vicki's lips, silencing the child as she felt the force of the words washing around her. 'It's only for a moment honey, then we can go outside and play.' The Doctor approached.

'This is Doctor Chandrasekhar. He's come to help you.'

The Dr gave a warm smile. 'You must be the very pretty granddaughter of Mr. Ben.' Vicki brightened at the mention of Grandpa. 'Can we see Granpa Ben?'

'He'll be at the park when we go there Vicki, I promise.' Charlie said, hushing her.

The Dr opened up a pen light and showed it to Vicki.

'Do you know what this is Miss Vicki?'

The girl nodded. 'It's a torch.'

The Dr gave a smile. 'Very good. And this? He held up a mirror.

'It's a mirror silly' Vicki said, her curiosity piqued.

'We shall play a very good game with this pen and this mirror, do you know it?'

Vicki shook her head, her curls settling around her face.

'I shall teach you. It's a very fun game.'

'Can mommy play too?'

The Doctor nodded. 'She can play also. First, I shall put this mirror onto my hat, like this' he said, attaching the mirror to his headband until it fell in front of his eyes. 'What do you see, Vicki?'

'I see me!' she trilled.

'Very good. Now, look at this light, see if you can follow the light with your eyes,'

The Doctor made the light dance in front of her eyes.

Vicki followed it, entranced.

'Very good, let's begin. Follow the light, down, down, deeper and deeper, can you see anything Vicki?'

'I see a girl' Vicki answered slowly.

'This is good Vicki, we are going to speak to that girl, can you tell her something important?'

'Yes' Vicki replied, slowly.

The Doctor looked at Charlie. Charlie rose and shut the door. 'Look into the light Vicki.'

--

Later, Vicki played outside, rugged up in her puffy jumper, making holes in the snow.

Charlie and Doctor Chandrasekhar watched her play.

'It is like a Dam, Miss Charlie. I cannot say how long it will last, or whether it will work. We will wait and see.'

'It has to work' Charlie watched her daughter flap her arms to make a snow angel, like any other normal child. 'It _has_ to work.'


	2. Chapter 1

The woman with the bold blonde crew cut ran her hand lovingly along the lip of the metal wave, following it down to the crisp beveled outline of the lower block.

The base block was nicked and pitted as if made from hardened silver stone, large enough to balance the wave and keep it in a perpetual surge towards the floor, without ever reaching it.

In the corner of the room, Erles Nygaard was wiping away the crumbs of a less than adequate croissant from the local baker who passed himself off as a Boulanger. Erles readied his all purpose 'don't touch the goods' purse of his lips, reserved for tourists who stumbled upstairs from the shopping mall.

He made a visual inspection of her outfit. Having passed the shoes and handbag matching test, Erles considered the make and size of the handbag. Seeing it sufficiently expensive (and fashionable) to warrant his attention, he rose gracefully from behind his desk and ambled over to the woman.

'Quite something, isn't it?' he said politely, sizing her up as a prospective buyer.

The visitor kept her hand on the sculpture, following it around in wonder. 'Fucking amazing, more like it.' she said, leaning around the back of it. 'How does it stand up? Bolted to the floor, right?'

Nygaard beamed. 'It's balanced.'

She put her hands on her hips and stood back, looking up at the towering wave. 'No way!'

Nygaard swept into action, extending a hand. 'I'm Erles Nygaard, this is my gallery.' The woman took his hand and shook it. 'I'm Kathy, Kathy Bernotti.' She gestured to the silver wave. 'I've simply got to have this.'

Nygaard beamed. 'I share with your enthusiasm, but I'm afraid this item is already sold.'

The woman made an exaggerated frown. '_Sold?_' she moaned.

Nygaard nodded. 'Sorry.'

The woman opened her snap top silver purse and withdrew a cheque book. 'I don't normally do this kind of thing, but here's what I am going to suggest' she said, writing. 'I'm going to write a number down on this piece of paper and I'm going to sign it. Now I'm not saying I expect to buy this artwork, I just want to show you what I think its worth and sign it to prove I mean it.' She tore the cheque from the book with a pefect snap-snap-snap as the perforations tore and placed it on the counter top. Nygaard smiled and let his eyes drift nonchalantly over the cheque.

---

In a reflection of the desire of the inhabitants to be left to their own devices, someone had stacked apple crates up in a slatted vertical wall up against the phone. The phone did its best to alert someone, anyone inside the store.

It rang at intervals, muffled and ignored. Kelly stood with her arms folded and watched it ring. When it refused to cease, she sighed and began unstacking the boxes until she could climb over the last few and answer it. ''lo' she said.

---

Charlie pressed into the block with her fingers and felt them tingle as the metal began to give way, becoming plastic. She scooped out a handful and flung it onto the floor to gather a glass crust as it cooled in the sand. The metal was pitting and melting unevenly inside the curve, ruining the effect. Nuisance value made her stand back with her arms crossed and think bad thoughts about the scrap dealer. 'Pure, my ass' she thought.

A banging from the locked barn door interrupted her ideas of melting the block down. She double checked the studio to ensure that the MIG torch was clearly visible and went to answer the door. As she unlocked it, the edge slid open a crack and she could see Phillip's big white teeth framed by a brown faced grin. He tipped her a wink. 'Come on, open up girl' he said, shaking the door.

'Keep your hair on' Charlie muttered. 'What's left of it, anyway.'

When she had the door all the way open, Phil lurched in and lifted her off her feet. 'Hey!' Charlie exclaimed. Phil gave her a big smooch and set her down. Charlie readjusted her apron and shirt where it had ridden up her back. 'What was that for?' Phil grinned. 'Just the messenger ma'am, just the messenger.'

Charlie scowled at him. 'What was the message?'

'That _was_ the message.' He said with a smile.

Charlie rubbed at her chest, her breasts tender from being crushed against him. '_That _was the message? Someone sent me a fondle?'

Phil laughed. 'I might have embellished a little. Your art dealer friend in the city gave strict instructions to hug his most valuable client.'

Charlie put her hands on her hips. 'Huh?'

Phil winked and scooted outside, returning with a stoppered brown bottle. 'He also said to pour you a glass of champagne, but as we aint got that, I figgered some of Mary's cider would do.' He scouted around the studio and found two battered cups. Charlie accepted the cup and absently toasted, bewildered.

'He sold your wave.'

Charlie's jaw dropped. 'He did?'

Phil nodded. 'He left a message at the store. Said it was the biggest cheque for a local artist he's ever seen. He even offered to buy you lunch.'

Charlie's eyes widened. 'He _offered_ to pay?'

Phil grinned again.

Charlie took a sip of her cider 'Must have been some sale. Maybe we can get that tractor'

Phil shook his head. 'Wouldn't hear of it. You earned it girl, it's time we got you some real materials to work with, now that you're a modern art star.'

Charlie took a step over to him and settled into his arms. 'You big lug' she said and kissed him. Phil kissed her back, then stood and turned her around to face the coarse block of iron in the centre of the room. 'You better get back to work girl. I do want that tractor _eventually'. _

Charlie smacked him on the arm and stood there as he hugged her, looking at the half-formed block.

'You want me to call Vicki?' he murmured in her ear.

Charlie frowned. 'I'll see her when I go into town.'

Phil smoothed the graying curls at her temple. 'Sure you will' Phil soothed. 'So I'll call her and tell her.'

---

'Without a moral compass, how do we know where we stand? How do we navigate through a sin filled world and keep our eyes to the sun? Friends, how can we fight our own sin without the hand that God lends us, through his son, Jesus Christ our Lord.'

'Amen' chorused the audience.

The Reverend felt for the pulse of the audience. He waited until their need reached its peak, as each strained to lift themselves out from the chairs with the grace of his words.

He waited.

As the ripples of 'Amen' and 'Hallelujah' built, he danced back onto the stage and flung his hand upwards at the video screen. The looping montage of biblical images gave way to the towering benevolent face of Jesus seen through a soft lens, almost feminine.

'JESUS!' he hollered. 'JESUS! Jesus is our compass. Jesus is our touch stone.' The Reverend spun around the snarl at his audience. 'It is through his grace that we may be redeemed, you better believe it!' The audience hooted in ecstasy, collapsing into a paroxysm of applause.

Inside the control room, Ronny, the desk manager, cued the lights.

The stage darkened, leaving the radiant image of the savior as the only light in the studios, excepting of course the red glare of the 'APPLAUSE' signs.

He breathed into his microphone. 'That's a take Tom.'

The Reverend relaxed his beatific smile and ran to the front of the audience.

In the control room, Ronny groaned. 'Watch out Paul, he's glad handing again.'

The sound engineer dropped his headphones. 'Can't he shut his fucking mike off before he does that!' he snapped. Through the headphones, lapel mike on the reverends chest clattered as the audience surged about him.

'Knock that kind of talk right off mister.' The Producer admonished.

The sound engineer looked at her sheepishly.

'They're reacting to the truth of the message, and so should you.' She said, pointedly. 'Check the playback and send it to graphics.' The producer stood up from her chair and left the control room, heading down the hollow metal stairs to the studio floor. The sound engineer waited until she left and rolled her eyes.

Ronny caught the expression and gave a warning look. 'If you want to keep your job, keep your eyes to the front son.'

The sound engineer quickly donned his headphones and pretended to check his console.

Ronny grinned. 'She's a true believer kid and you don't mess with the Faithful.'

Tommy was sitting is his chair, his collar askew and a make up artist roughly scrubbing away at his face. Vicki waited until he acknowledged her and approached. 'How was that' he said, between tugs on his face.

'It was wonderful Reverend. Truly inspiring.' Tommy waved the make up girl away. 'Thank you Alisha, I'll do the rest myself.'

The Reverend motioned for Vicki to come closer. 'Enough with the build up Vicki, how are my numbers.'

Vicki looked reluctantly to her clipboard. 'They're good - no really.' she said as he reached for the clipboard. She felt an electric thrill as his fingers passed through hers, taking the clip board. He unfolded a pair of reading glasses and studied the printouts. He raised an eyebrow. 'This is good?'

Vicki nodded. 'It's steady growth.'

The Reverend frowned. 'The Baptists are still kicking our asses. Even the goddamn Jews do better than us.'

'That's only on cable.' Vicki interjected.

'Four Rabbi's giving dating advice shouldn't rate higher than the word of God.' The reverend barked, glowering. 'If there was a Buddhist channel, we'd be behind them too.' He snatched his collar off. 'Face it Victoria, the Word doesn't sell like it used to. We can hardly compete with the productions of the bigger boys.'

Vicki never corrected him when he extended her name to a mistaken formality. Never Victoria. Just plain old 'Vicki'.

'True, but our demographic is changing, we just need to hang in there, they'll come around' Vicki said brightly.

The Reverend smiled. 'You are a good Kid, Victoria.' The Revered buttoned his collar and stood up. 'God be with you.'

---

It wasn't until after the sets hand been locked down that Vicki had a chance to rest. 'Quite some show' said a voice from the darkened rows. Vicki stood up sharply, putting a hand over her eyes to mask the studio light. 'Mom?'

Charlie walked out from the shadows and stood at the edge of the stage. 'This place gives me the creeps. Can we get some coffee?'

'Sure' said Vicki. 'There's some in the…'

'I meant somewhere outside.' Charlie looked around the converted theatre, shuddering at the damage done to its art deco features.

'oh. Give me a minute to get my things.'

They walked silently together through the plaza to the main street until Charlie picked out a bookshop with a café in one corner. Charlie sat and ordered. 'Coffee ok?'

'Sure' said Vicki.

Charlie looked for something to say. 'So. How are you?'

'I'm great.' Vicki replied.

Charlie nodded. 'Right. How's ah, work?'

'Work's good.'

Charlie waited for her to say something.

Vicki remained silent.

Mercifully, a waitress brought the coffee over and placed it between them. Charlie poured herself a cup from the plunger, eager for something to do and irritated by the silence 'Come on Vicki, I know you can manage more than a few words.'

Vicki remained passive. 'What do you want me to say? Hi mom, it's great to see you, even though it's not thanksgiving yet.'

Charlie's face fell. 'I'm sorry' she said.

Vicki shrugged. 'What for?'

Charlie looked at her daughter, the colour seemed gone from her.

Tears welled in her eyes. She put her head in her hands. Vicki leaned forward and put her hand on Charlie's shoulder. 'I'm sorry you seem so unhappy. There is one person who could give you comfort.' Charlie looked up into the earnest eyes of her daughter. 'Give yourself over to Jesus, mom, you won't have to feel this way ever again. He can relieve you of…your…burden'

Charlie sat unblinking, the tears mysteriously gone. She laughed. Vicki withdrew her hand.

'Darlin', if he could, I'd be the first in line.' Charlie looked around her for a way to rescue the conversation. 'I came to tell you I'd sold one of my pieces and there's going to be a small gathering at the Gallery, I thought you might like to come.'

Vicki thought about it. 'I will come if you ask me.'

Charlie shook her head. 'Come if you want. It's on Thursday night at Erles' place.'

Vicki remained silent. Charlie put her coffee cup down. 'I gotta go.' She stood and dropped a few bills onto the table, then bent over and gave Vicki a hug. Vicki remained motionless, smiling pleasantly.

Charlie shuddered involuntarily and walked away from the table.

As she was leaving, Vicki called to her. 'I will pray for you.'

Charlie made it all the way back to Phil's borrowed utility truck without losing it. When she was buckled in, the windows wound up and the radio on, she cried.


	3. Chapter 2

The curtains were drawn, despite the bright sunshine. The shutters outside the room were closed, but would open automatically after the sun had long gone down. Even in the winter, the room was cool. Vents had been installed that silently blew a constant artic chill from the ceilings and floor. An airlock door separated the room from the main corridor and opened with a suck of air at the edges of the rubber seals. The 'Bed' was positioned in the centre of the wall facing the windows looking out onto the trees. Everything was clean.

Once a week, the 'bed' was rolled into a sealed antechamber that had been specially cleaned and chilled and the main room was swept for biological matter and dirt. Each one of the orderlies at the edges of the Bed were careful to move it ever-so-slowly, making sure that the occupant didn't roll or float left or right and collide with the walls. One agonizing shriek was sufficient to make the weekly ritual a test of bravery and a way to root out the weak amongst newcomers. The liquid inside the bed would be flushed and replenished and whilst the orderlies tried to look anywhere but at the occupant of the Bed. Only the head nurse chose eye contact. It was an unwritten rule of the facility, a final test to pass before accepting the position. She would look him, 'it', right in the eyes. After weeks of practice, she could smile and hold it without crying for the whole process. The previous Head Nurse has cautioned her 'The abraidment, that's the hard one. That's why it's got to be _clean._' One such incident had proven enough.

Other than the medical staff, the Beds occupant received few visitors, at least directly. There were many who came to observe, or to read reports and shake their heads in amazement, or to offer new and improved treatments. The mostly stayed in the observation area beside the room, looking in through the pin hole cameras at the unmoving occupant.

Anyone wanting access to the inner sanctum faced a rigorous cleaning process and swathing in multiple layers of covering. When the head nurse found someone sitting in the room, she almost let out a scream of surprise. Someone in a one piece over suit sitting on a chair near the Bed, talking softly.

'I'm sorry, I didn't realise' said the Head Nurse, retreating to the door.

The figure beside the bed looked up, a woman. 'Come in, we were just talking shop.'

The Head Nurse walked over to the Bed and looked into it. The occupant was smiling, the eyes moist and protruding from the lunar landscape carved into the flesh. 'Thissss' hissed the occupant. 'thissss… isss… my… daughter…'

The head nurse breathed in sharply, knowing the cost of even the simplest words.

The woman in the chair stood and reached out a hand. 'I'm Abigail'

The Head Nurse kept her hands down. 'We don't touch in here, even if we've been cleaned. Sorry.' The woman nodded. 'Sure. My father is very grateful, as I am, for all you've done.'

The Head Nurse felt uneasy. 'A daughter?' she thought. 'He's a good patient.' She managed to say.

'We've been considering moving him to a new facility and we were wondering.' The woman paused. 'Daddy, I'm going to go talk to your nurse, I'll visit again soon.'

Abigail smiled at the occupant and took the Head Nurses arm, leading her away from the Bed. Looking over her shoulder, the Head Nurse watched the face of the occupant, stripped of any muscles that could betray meaning. He stared into nothing.

---

In the changing room, the masks, gloves and over suits were stripped away and thrown into the gown bin for recycling or destruction. 'Abigail' revealed a bright shock of blonde hair in a buzz cut. The Head Nurse felt as if they were astronauts, stepping out of their spacesuits. Abigail gave her a blazing white smile. 'We truly are grateful.' The Head Nurse finished dressing in her gown. 'Did you say you are looking at moving him?'

Abigail nodded. 'There's a new facility opening at Pensacola that's working on a skin replacement sheeting grown from his own cells.'

'I thought they'd tried that?' the Head Nurse said quizzically. 'His cells didn't culture.' Abigail nodded again. Yes. But as a relative, they think that my cells might make the difference. Anything's worth a try.'

The head nurse walked with her out into the main corridor. 'I've never seen anything like it. How anyone' she shuddered. 'Can take so much punishment and still be alive…'

Abigail touched her arm. 'It's why I can't come here that often. I just can't.'

The Head Nurse dismissed her previous misgivings. 'I understand' she opened the door for the both of them and they walked out to the elevator at the end of the corridor. The Head Nurse pressed the button to summon the elevator rumbling up from the lower floors. Abigail turned to the Nurse. 'Moving him is going to be traumatic. I was hoping that when we do it, _if_ we do it, you'd assist the transport. Someone that knows him.'

The elevator arrived and they entered, the Nurse waving her badge near the card reader and selecting a floor. 'If I can help, I will. We'll just have to clear it with the administration.

Abigail made a serious face 'The foundation has been very generous to this hospital. I'm sure it'll be no problem.' The Head Nurse felt the sense of unease return. She dismissed it as fear for her patient. Moving a burns victim was never a simple task, but this one was even more daunting. Despite their best effort, this patient had never recovered. It wasn't the lack of recovery that was most distressing. It was the way the wounds constantly reappeared. Even inside a specially prepared tank of solution and a cold room, he was still burning.

---

Rufus looked at the long haired girl with the nose ring. 'Cant go through metal detectors' he said quietly. JJ laughed and tried to stifle his mirth. The girl was too busy reading a gossip-zine to notice the boys. Rufus cast an eye across the remainder of the Laundromat. 'Too fat. Too old. Too many kids.' A tall girl with dark glossy jet curls walking in from the street caught his eye. 'oh. Wait for it. Here she is, right on time.' He ran a commentary on her as she approached, drawing silent as she passed by, eyes downcast, until JJ punched him to shut him up.

'Goddam she is hot.' Rufus said, leering.

'S.t.f.u' growled JJ.

Rufus dropped to his elbows beside his friend, hunkering down over the washing machine. He looked into JJ's otherwise occupied eyes and batted his eyelashes.

'JJ's in lurrrrve' he drawled.

JJ looked at him in annoyance. 'Shut up already.'

Rufus wandered up behind JJ and put his arms around him. 'Aw. So shy'

JJ tried to shake him off. 'Don't be an asshole Ruf.'

Rufus hugged him tighter. 'Just go up to her dude. Don't be a wuss.' Rufus chided. 'We've been here three times already. Grow some cojones man.'

JJ grinned. 'Fuck you Rufus.' Rufus clapped him on the arm. 'That's the spirit, go to her my son, go to her.'

The girl looked up at the noise and for an instant JJ caught her gaze. 'Holy shit' he mumbled to himself. She realized he was looking right back at her and suddenly dropped her eyes, breaking the connection.

Rufus smiled. 'My man JJ, the player, makes his move.'

The girl gathered up her washing and walked quickly back out the door. JJ shoved Rufus away from him and started towards her. She brushed by him hurriedlyJJ hesitated. Rufus rolled his eyes. 'Just do it man!' JJ gave him a grin of thanks and ran after her.

Vicki struggled with the basket of washing, trying to make it back to the car as quickly as she could without tripping. From behind her, she could hear the sound of footsteps running down the sidewalk, coming closer.

'Hey' a voice called out.

She kept walking.

'Hey!' the running stopped. She stepped from the edge of the kerb and caught lost her balance for a heartbeat. She recovered, but the washing dropped neatly in a pile onto the street. A slender young man with a hawkish nose trotted to a halt beside her and started to pick up her laundry. She stood frozen as he finished repacking the basket and stood up. He smiled at her and tried to give the basket back, holding uncertainly when she remained motionless.

'Err..Don't you think we ought to get out of the street?' he said as cars began to slow around them.

'Ok' said Vicki. She stepped back onto the kerb. JJ stepped up beside her. She still wouldn't take the washing back. 'Can I help you get this to your car, or house, or whatever.' He said.

'Sure' said Vicki. 'It's just over there'

They walked over to the small blue hatchback and stood beside it. Eventually, JJ put the basket down. 'I'm JJ' he said, holding out his hand.

'I'm Vicki.' She replied, shaking his hand firmly and professionally. JJ cracked a smile, thinking it was Rufus's idea of a handshake, but her face remained calm, inscrutable.

Vicki opened the hatch and put the basket into the hatch, closed it and opened the front door. JJ leaned in as she did her seatbelt up.

'Um. Err.' He blundered. Vicki started the car. 'Will I see you again?' he said, quickly. Vicki looked straight ahead of her. 'I suppose.'

She closed the door and JJ scampered back out of its way as it shut. She wound her window down. 'Thank you for helping me' she said and drove away.

JJ watched the car pull away, then looked to the skies, smacked his palm in the middle of his forehead and turned around.


	4. Chapter 3 interlude

INTERLUDE

The latch to the window was still shut. Dalton tried placing his hands flat on the glass and pressing up. It refused to budge and he refused to try anything that might make more noise. He felt as if he would stand under the window ledge for the rest of the night, freezing his ass off, and with a solid boner to boot every time he thought about her. The pleasant surge at his groin prompted him to try again. He huffed and puffed in the cold until he became aware of a face looking down at him from the window. He froze. It was Mrs. M in a night gown, eyes narrowed in displeasure, arms folded. He smiled sheepishly. She mouthed 'wrong window' and pointed to her right. It took a few moments for the gesture to mean something. Dalton suddenly got it. It was some small form of approval. He flashed a brilliant 'thank you' smile and scampered away from the window and down to the other corner of the house.

'Cynthia, come away from the window' said Ben, watching her fog up the window from under the covers of the bed. 'It's that boy again' Cynthia muttered. Ben snorted. 'Does it remind you of anyone?' he said with a smile. Cynthia turned around to face her husband of these many years. Somewhere under the crags and wrinkles, the young man who had in his own turn scampered up the trellis beside her windows, winked out at her. 'I love you so much' she thought to herself. She steeled on the bed beside him, still unwilling to commit to the finality of getting under the covers. Ben gave her a hug. 'Darlin', we can't keep her under wraps forever'. Cynthia squeezed him in reply. 'I'm just, I.' she faltered. Ben kissed her. 'They grow up.'

---

In her dreams, Charlie was sitting with John, together in a field. She knew her father was somewhere nearby. He would always be near, but never visible. She felt his touch in the warmth of the sun. John was playing cards, giving her an occasional look from his one good eye. 'The jack doesn't go on the queen' she corrected, moving his cards. She was careful never to let him touch her. He was a friend, but the wrong kind of friend, like having a pet tiger. He could be fun and playful, but 'ware the teeth. Ever so often, John would ask her a question, but she never heard what he said. She watched his mouth though, making sure the lips didn't part enough for the teeth to show, because then, she'd have to teach him a lesson. The cards went down, one atop the other, slap, slap. Slap. Slap.

Charlie awoke with a start. From outside, she thought she heard a muffled curse word.

She rolled out from the bed and went to the window. Someone was hopping around in circles, cursing. Her mother was standing there with a broom, whacking someone. Charlie felt a sudden surge of dread. The Big Bad welled within her and she choked down on it. She quickly pulled the window up and stuck her head out. 'Cyn, are you ok?' Cynthia stopped whacking the figure. As she lowered her broom, the figure put his arm down. Charlie stared agog at Dalton. 'What the hell are you doing here?' she said. Cynthia wagged her finger. 'Making too much noise!' She raised her broom again. Dalton quailed and Charlie burst out laughing. 'Cynthia, _mom_, please.' She said. Cynthia scowled. 'CyntheeeeeAAAAA' came a low call from the other end of the house. Cynthia lowered the broom and walked slowly back to the front porch. Dalton waited until she was safely on the porch before sauntering back up to the window. He gave her a grin. 'I would have called, but you don't have a phone, remember?'

Charlie looked him over. In the dim morning light, she could see his dark tousled hair had been cropped short. He was bigger than when he had left, taller, filled out across his chest. She gave a small shudder. 'I'll come out.' She said, going to close the window. Dalton grasped the edges of the frame and sprang up onto the ledge. He almost made it in an acrobatic tumble to the bed, but the chair beside the window caught his leg and he collided instead with the side of the bedhead, landing in a jumble of arms and legs. 'QUIET!' screamed Cynthia from the front of the house, as the dust settled. Charlie looked down at him. Slightly upside down he gave her a wry grin and jumped up as she bent to help him, stopping suddenly and seriously to stand in front of her. He was still a good head taller than her. Charlie was too busy studying his face to stop him from kissing her. She smacked him away. 'Not with the folks in the other room Dal, stop it.'

Dalton pouted. 'Jeez Louise, it's been a year already, how much longer'm I supposed to wait.' He sat down on the edge of her bed, milking her sympathy. Charlie was about to apologise until she noted the rise in his pants crotch. She cursed him and he caught her in his arms and pulled her down onto the bed. 'Your hormones are talking' she said. He nodded. 'Hell yeah.'

Charlie pulled away. 'When did you get back?'

Dalton sighed and rolled over to sit up beside her. 'I missed you too you know'

Charlie smiled and kissed him. 'I missed you.'

'Great!' said Dalton, moving in to kiss down her neck.

Charlie whacked him again. 'The sun's almost up. Let's have breakfast' she got up from the bed and wrapped her dressing gown around herself.

Dalton lay back on the bed with his arms behind his head and thought bad thoughts. A few moments later, he could hear the snap and sizzle of a pan from the kitchen. His stomach growled and he considered that breakfast would be a fine thing after all.

---

Cynthia thought about asking for a conveyor belt to be installed. Despite taking over the cooking from Charlie, who ceded the ownership of the kitchen at her insistence, Dalton consumed everything in sight. She could barely keep pace with the flap jacks and was wondering about the day old corn bread. He made a lip smacking sound so Cynthia hit him with her spoon. 'Chew with your mouth closed.'

Ben gave out a great chuckle. 'He's spent too long in a mess hall Cyn, we'll need to break him in to proper company again.'

Dalton smiled in thanks for the defense. 'Sorry Mrs. M.' he said.

'You never mind her.' said Ben, leaning forward to whisper. 'Except when she's got her broom out.'

'I hear that' said Cynthia, flipping more pancakes.

Charlie watched the family bicker cheerfully. She sat with her knees up near her chin, feet tucked under her nightdress and a cocoa balanced partially on her knees. Ben, as always, was treating Dalton like the son he'd never had. In spite of Cynthia's quick tongue, she showed her love with the steady stream of food from the grille.

'Jesus' she thought 'I'm watching a 'conversation with America'' The boys both turned to her as if she had said something, then continued bantering. 'So how's your father' asked Ben over a mouthful.

'I haven't been by there yet.' Dalton said quietly. Ben dropped the subject. 'Well it's good to see you in one piece.'

Cynthia dropped another set of pancakes onto the table, but Dalton pushed his plate away, suddenly full. Cynthia was set to scowl, but noticed the thin draw lines at the edges of his brow. 'He's too young to have those lines' she thought.

'I better be getting on home.' Dalton said and started to rise. Ben waved him back down. 'Sit back down Dalton. I'll drive you.' Dalton hesitantly sat back down. After a moment, he took another stack of pancakes and began wolfing them down. Cynthia made a pleased huffing noise.

---

The old dodge shuddered as it slipped between the ruts of the road, carved by rain and hardened in the days since. It was like driving across a cheese grater. Ben coaxed the old truck over each rise, the wheel threatening to break free from his hands with each bump. Dalton had become quiet as they neared the homestead. By the time they had turned off from the highway, he was staring out across the cornfields, squinting in the bright light.

The entrance to the compound was through a tangle of trees that hid the gates from the road. Ben pulled to a halt beside the wooden lean-to at the edge of the dirt track and waited until a gaunt man in brown khaki's detached from the tree, becoming suddenly visible. A wave of his rifle sent them through. Ben gave a curt nod and drove up the path.

'You can let me out here.' Dalton said flatly.

Ben ignored him and crested the hill, following it down and around to the lee of the valley. People in the same brown coloured clothing stopped to watch the truck pass by. Wedged between Ben and Dalton, Charlie had to stretch to get a better view through the side windows. She let her chin rest on Dalton's hard tensed shoulder. She tried running a hand through his hair. He shrugged her hand away and remained silently staring out the window.

Eventually, they ran out of road, and more of the brown men congregated in front of the truck. Ben gave a pleasant smile and said through his teeth 'They all look like a pack of gophers. You sure you want to do this son, we can just turn around now.'

Dalton opened the door and stepped out. Ben sighed and began to reverse the truck. Charlie watched as Dalton pushed through the Brown men and walked towards the homestead. Ben sighed. 'How did such a nice kid come out of such an evil bastard?'

'They don't scare me.' said Charlie.

Ben looked at her for a moment, and then chuckled. 'I don't expect they do, Darlin', I don't expect they do.'

The dodge pulled out from under the darkness of the trees and back into the bright morning sunlight. They headed home.


	5. Chapter 4

Nicolo sported a close shaven beard, razor trimmed at the edges. His cap was sky blue, set at a jaunty angle. The back of his hair was trimmed to follow the back of his skull and smoothed down with oil. He was lean, tan, and possessed of bright white teeth, snappy pants, snappy shoes, and 'madre mia', _such_ moves. He stamped on the vacant beat and gave a flourish with his _tucus_, throwing his head back.

'That's it!' he crowed, watching the turning couples mimic his steps. One of the helpers switched the music off and the couples stopped dancing. Nicolo gave them a hearty round of applause.

As the class broke away, Nicolo toweled himself off and felt for the preliminary signs of a strain in his thigh. 'More stretching' he admonished himself. Still, another class was shaping up well.

A tall, thickset man in jeans and a sports jacket waited by the doorway. Nicolo looked up. 'You signing up?' he asked, leaning against the wall to stretch a hamstring.

The tall man walked forward. His tan was deeper, fuller, but not dark. Burnt copper. His hair was long, divided into the free flowing length that fell down his back and two plaits on either side.

'Good moves' thought Nicolo. 'He should dance well.'

Nicolo straightened and went to stand beside the man, who stopped moving waited as Nicolo sidled up against him and pointed to his feet. 'Now, like mine.'

The man looked at Nicolo in puzzlement. 'What?'

Nicolo pursed his lips. 'Look at my feet. Stand like this.' When the man remained motionless Nicolo did a snap with his feet. The sound crackled through the studio. The man shrugged and repeated Nicolo's snap, ending with his arms in the air.

Nicolo stepped back admiringly. 'Not bad, not bad at all. You should come to the intermediate class, we could use another lead.'

Nicolo picked up his towel and started to dry off again.

The man gave a wry smile. 'Thanks for the lesson, but I wasn't here to join up.'

Nicolo frowned. 'Shame. You should, you've got legs.'

The man chuckled. 'Where I come from, that'd be taken as a challenge.'

Nicolo put the towel down. 'You've got some chutzpah, I'll give you that. I can dance your heinie off.' He flung out a hand towards the plaques on his wall.

The tall man shucked his shoes, revealing broad, solidly callused feet.

Nicolo's blood was up. He flung the towel from him. 'Hah!' He cried.

The tall man seemed little shorter for lack of shoes. He grinned at Nicolo. 'Let's make it interesting.'

Nicolo stamped impatiently. 'Fine. You want to put $20 on it?'

The tall man shook is head. 'No, nothing as crass as money. Let's say you win, I acknowledge your superiority with this.' He lifted the lapel on his denim jacket and revealed a bright blue turquoise brooch.

It perfectly matched the cap on Nicolo's head. He instantly realized he had to have it. 'Ok. Fine.'

The tall man wagged a finger. 'Ah. But if I win.'

'Not likely Pal.' Nicolo snorted.

The tall man acknowledged with a shrug. 'As you say, but _if _ I win. A question. Just a question and straight answer.'

Nicolo thought about it for a minute. 'Sure, why not.'

---

Nicolo rubbed his aching legs. 'That's it.' He panted. 'I'm beat.'

The red man leaned down and dragged him to his feet. 'No you're not'

Nicolo winced as he stepped forward. 'You're twenty years my junior, my good man, and I am not going to leap like that again for a few days'

The red man laughed. He walked back over to his scattered clothing and retrieved a leather pouch. He tossed out a small glass jar. 'Rub that on. You'll be leaping again in no time.'

Nicolo caught the jar and opened it, sniffing. It had a faint astringent smell. 'What is it?'

'Riding balm, good for sore, ah,' the man laughed. 'It's good for sore butts.'

Nicolo rubbed a little onto his palm, where it tingled and dissolved into his flesh. 'Where'd you learn to dance?'

The red man shook his head. 'Never did. Just good at copying people, I suppose. Ride a bit, run a little.'

Nicolo was astonished. 'Well, that's fantastic. You really should try out for something.'

The red man grinned again. 'I've got a job already, but this stuff was interesting. Maybe I'll do a little more.'

Nicolo took a light jacket from a wall hanger, zipping it up. 'So what was your question?'

'Do I get just one?'

'We'll see' said Nicolo. 'Shoot.'

The Redman considered this for a moment. 'Ok, so if I only get the one question, how about I set the stage for it.'

'Ok.'

The Redman breathed in. 'Right, here goes. You used to work on the Rolling Stone Magazine a way back; you did photography for Budd Elder.' He raised his hand 'don't stop me; it's not my question yet. Right. Budd did a story about secret government testing on civilians.'

Nicolo's drew a sharp breath. 'They got an apology from President Clinton'

The Redman nodded. 'Yes, some of them did. You did the photography for that first article.'

Nicolo shook his head. 'We didn't shoot anything.'

'I'm not at my question yet, I'm just setting the stage. So anyway, you did the photography and there was one shot with a young girl, she can't have been more than twelve...'

'Why aren't you asking Budd these questions?'

The Redman paused. 'Because he's dead, and you'd also know that. Anyway, it's still not my question.'

Nicolo stuck his hands in his pockets. 'My good man, I don't know if I'm going to want to answer that question, what ever it is.'

The Redman moved incredibly quickly. Even with his aging dancers' reflexes, Nicolo watched in slow motion as the Red man seized his arm, holding it lightly but firmly. 'We made our wagers. I'll hold you to it.'

Nicolo looked at the hand holding his arm.

The Red man released it. 'Would it help if I told you I was on a spirit quest?'

'Is that your question?'

The red man smiled. 'Why not.'

Nicolo rubbed absently at his arm. 'You're on a spirit quest.'

The red man raised his right hand. 'Honest Injun.'

They both burst out laughing. Nicolo thought about it for a moment. 'This is some strange shit, my brother. Some strange shit indeed.' He sighed. 'Ok. You lock the windows and let me get my stuff.'

---

John Redman sat in the passenger seat of the neatly appointed German van.

'Where are we going?'

Nicolo swung the van into the turning lane. 'My ex wife's place. Most of my old stuff is in the garage.'

'_Ex_ wife?'

Nicolo checked his mirrors and turned. 'It was amicable; she's not going to throw plates at us. So anyway, what's your story?'

'Jeez, a little foreplay might have been nice.' admonished the Redman.

Niciolo grinned. 'We've danced enough. Come on, you've got my curiosity up. You don't look like a Fed.'

The Redman shook his head. 'I'm not. I'm from the Tribe of the nation.'

The van stopped in traffic and Nicolo leaned back on his headrest, closing his eyes momentarily. 'So what the hell is this all about?'

'Well, back a little while ago, I was in the desert with a few friends…'

---

John Redman sat on the hood of his car with his legs dangling over the grille. He was using the blade of his oversized knife to whittle a stick into the shape of a dolphin. He pressed a little too hard and the bowed head flicked off onto the red sand. A growing pile of chips were forming at the base of a tire, catching the wind ever so often and whirling away in small dust devils. It was still cold, the desert night had not relinquished the blanket of cool air yet, holding onto it until just before dawn, when someone turned the heat up and the land would fry again until nightfall.

Even in his deerskin coat, John shivered.

One of his guests woke up, looked around and screamed, waking the second and third man up. They each looked around them, struggling against the dirt. 'Yoo hoo' called John, from the bonnet of the car.

The heads turned as best they could towards him. 'Heya!' he said, hopping down from the car. He walked over and squatted next to the heads. 'You remember me, dontcha?'

Wild eyed, bruised and somewhat crusted in light fly sand, his guests stared at him. 'Ah, forgot. You can't talk yet. Well, better you keep your mouths shut anyway. Something might crawl in there and sting ya' John said, hopping forward as he said 'sting' and watching them as they tried to flinch inside the dirt that covered them.

'You guys are sooooo stupid. I mean, did you really think you can pull that wise guy crap with the Nations? I mean, look around. It's a frickin' federal reserve. Nobody comes out here. We got plenty of space; they'll find Hoffa faster than they'll find you morons.' John hunkered down beside the first one. 'Dontcha get it? Our family's a whole lot older than your family. We will fuck you up and bury the pieces.' John gave a grin. 'the bits we don't' eat'

The head in front of him fainted. 'Wuss' said John.

Flashes of blue and red illuminated the brush and sand as a police cruiser picked its way gingerly over to stop beside John's sedan. A policeman in vastly unnecessary mirror shades got out from the car and rested with his forearms on the door. The two conscious heads in the sand jostled and murmured, still without the use of their tongues.

'Hey John' called the policeman

'Hey Ted.' John responded, standing up from the heads to stretch his arms.

'You got some trouble with visitors?' inquired Ted, nodding towards the buried men. John shook his head. 'Nope. No trouble. Just an…' he paused and gave one of the heads a tap with his foot. 'an initiation rite. These guys wanted to join the tribe.'

The policeman lifted his glasses, regarding them with pale brown eyes. 'Did they now.'

'Don't you go away now.' John said to the heads and trotted over to the police cruiser. Ted waited until he was nose to nose above the open door. 'You gonna leave'em out here?'

Ted waited for John to think it over. 'Nah. These boys are stupid, not vicious. They need to carry the message home.'

Ted nodded. 'K, but if it's otherwise…'

John held up his hands. 'We don't have to have that conversation Ted. I'm only doing what the Elders asked. No more, no less.' He paused. 'Except for the ants, maybe.'

Ted whitened.

'Just kidding, just kidding. You go on back and I'll let these Guido's up in an hour or so.' John clapped him on the shoulder. Ted slowly got back into his car and started the engine up. He rolled the window down as he reversed and called to the buried men. 'We'd like to see you again, as tourists, next time.' He nodded to John and pulled away.

John hunkered down beside the heads again. 'You see, we have an excellent relationship with our local law enforcement. Now whilst the Tribe was pleased to receive your offer, we want you to be able to give our complete assurances to the folks that sent you that we have everything we need.' John stood up again. 'Now I'm going to treat you to a beautiful moment. Sunrise in the desert.'

John waited as the sun began to wink from under the lip of the horizon.

He withdrew a silver revolver from his pocket and opened the cylinder, checked the load and snapped it shut with a click. He was rolling the barrel absently with his finger when Snake spoke to him.

Snake was coiled around the base of a bush. It was too early for Snake to be about and he was slow, languid. His tongue flicked lazily in and out of his mouth.

'Hello Snake' said John Redman.

Snake rose up a little to better see him.

'Hello John Redman, what are you doing here?'

John waved back towards the heads in the dirt. 'The tribe asked me to bring these men out here. They're bad men.'

Snake tested his words and crawled towards the buried men. 'Are they a gift for me?'

John thought about it. 'Not especially. I'm meant to let them go.'

Snake moved within striking range of the closest head. The mans eyes bulged. 'But you're not thinking of letting them go, are you.' Snake whispered, starting his sing song sway in front of the mans eyes.

John had to admit he was not. 'Nope. Was thinking about shooting them.'

'Yes.' said Snake. 'You can't let these bad men go, they'll only be back' he said and slithered close enough to the mans face to let his scales scratch against his stubble.

'I'd be leaving a nest of vipers' John mused.

'Don't get cute Redman' hissed Snake.

'Sorry' John said.

The buried mans eyelids were starting to droop as Snake danced and wove in front of him. 'They can be mine.'

From the darkness, a cascade of pebbles announced Coyote.

'You're slipping in your old age' John Redman said into the darkness.

Coyote peered out from behind a rock.

'No foolin' you is there Redman? Hey snake.' Coyote called.

Snake shook a little and slithered around the buried gangster to face Coyote. 'Get lost Coyote.'

Coyote lay down and licked his fur. 'Now how's that a way to talk to someone? Must be that cold blood.'

Snake reared up.

Coyote tut-tutted. 'Don't get all riled so. Your problem is you just can't shed your skin, can you? Makes you cranky.'

John Redman noticed the raggedness of Snakes scales.

Snake hissed and his tongue darted. 'Don't you listen to Coyote, John Redman, you know he's a liar.'

'True', observed Coyote. 'But telling the truth can be even more amusing.'

The sun was rising in fullness now, the last of the dark departing. Snake lowered himself to the ground and started to crawl away. 'Another time, John Redman.' He hissed and slithered out of sight.

Coyote ambled over to John and sniffed around his feet. 'Don't say I never do nothing' for ya kid.'

John leaned down and gave coyote a scratch behind the ears.

Coyote bared his teeth and growled. 'Not too familiar thanks.' and with a flourish of his tail, he was gone.

John Redman sighed, looking at his pistol. He put the gun back into his jacket pocket and walked back to his truck for a shovel.

---

Nicolo looked at John Redman. 'You're fuckin' with me, right?'

John shook his head. 'Nope.'

'You're here because a snake and a coyote talked to you.'

John squinted. 'Well…kind of. I had my vision interpreted by the tribe.'

'And you think it has something to do a photo I shot twenty years ago?'

'Um…sort of. I'm looking for a member of our tribe who used to work for one of those government agencies you wrote about.'

'Budd wrote about' corrected Nicolo. 'So why don't you start there.'

'No luck. FOI doesn't cut it with these guys. But the people in your…Budd's article' John corrected himself. 'May have been the last people to see him alive, and it's important that I find out what happened to them.'

Nicolo shrugged. 'Ok.' He pulled the van to a halt outside a block of units. 'We're here.' Nicolo started to undo his seatbelt and opened the door.

John held him back for a moment with a small touch on his arm. 'Why are you helping me?'

Nicolo gave him a grin. 'Because, my strong legged friend, your story is so freaking outrageous that it appeals to my inner Hippy.' Nicolo snorted. 'I thought I'd lost that stuff with the pony tail and the crazy glasses back in the seventies, but here we are.'

'Here we are indeed' thought John Redman and followed him out of the van.


	6. Chapter 5

Erles hammered the table with his fist, causing his expensive smoked salmon to scatter its covering of capers all over the white table cloth, leaving small green stains in the fabric.

'Will need to soak that' thought Charlie, then, 'screw it. It's his table cloth.'

Erles waited until they settled down. 'Friends, charge your glasses please.' He waited patiently until everyone had at least a slug of fruit juice in their cups and resumed his toast.

'I've been representing local artists for many years now. 'The Spectator' has called me the doyenne of the cornfields.'

The guests let out a groan.

Erles was not to be put off. 'I don't get many chances to have my impeccable taste so thunderously confirmed. Charlie.' He said, raising his glass. Charlie tried to sink down away into the chair, but Phil was having none of it. He straightened her up. Charlie looked out across the small gathering of friends. Phil was beside her, still inadvertently crushing her with each loving grasp or hug. Mary Anne was sitting across the fold up tables, red faced from too much of her own concoction. She could have been toasting the Bismarck for all she could tell. Russell, Aubrey and Ruth, all from the co op store. Kelly would still be back at the store, minding it until midnight. Everyone was there. Almost.

'Charlie, I have always greatly admired your work. Now I am admiring your sale price, which, and trust me on this, is an even bigger compliment.'

Someone threw a bread roll at him. Erles shrugged it off. 'To Charlie.' he said, raising his glass. They raised their glasses and toasted. 'Charlie.'

Charlie rose at Phil's prompting and raised her glass as well. 'Ah. Thanks.' She said and tried to sit down. Phil had his hand on the seat and she shot back up amidst boos and catcalls from her friends. Charlie stuck out her tongue. 'Ok, fine.'

She turned to Erles. 'Erles, despite being the very picture of narcissus…' Erles hooted with mock horror. 'You strike a good bargain on behalf of local artists and we're all grateful.' Erles made a seated bow.

Charlie turned back to look out over the faces of her friends and other locals artists. 'And for the rest of you, remember, Erles is picking up the bill so start drinking.'

The crowd applauded and Erles registered a more honest look of concern as they broke away and headed for the table with the drinks on it. He frowned at Charlie and excused himself to try and save his scotch.

Charlie collapsed in a heap beside Phil.

'Aren't you excited?' Phil chided.

Charlie let out a sigh. 'It's more like relief than excitement.' Finally. Finally she had something of her own. Phil kissed her brow.

Charlie looked around the room. The white gallery walls had neat framed pictures and cards set at strategic viewing heights interspersed with sculptures on white plinths. Gaggles of local artists were admiring their own works on the walls and arguing between mouthfuls of free food. Almost unnoticeable in the shadow of the doorway sat a girl. Charlie's heart gave a start. She broke free from Phil and stepped out and around the table. Already, she could see Vicki trying to slip away unnoticed. Erles however, was faster than Charlie thought capable. He slipped an arm around Vicki and shepherded inside in a constant stream of talk and praise. 'Darling, you are just so gorgeous!' Erles led Vicki over to a group clustered around a painting. Charlie shot Erles a glare, but he flicked his head, gesturing to a hole in the circle of people. Charlie gratefully steered for the hole and came up beside them.

Donald, a local glass painter was waxing lyrical about his latest composition. Vicki peered out from under Erles' arm, looking for an escape. When Charlie extended a hand, Vicki grasped her lifeline and was evacuated from the discussion. Erles winked at Charlie.

Charlie hugged Vicki. 'I'm so glad you came.'

Vicki looked back at the artists. 'Thanks for rescuing me.'

Charlie led her over to the table. Phil came running out from behind the table and grabbed Vicki up into the air. Vicki squealed her displeasure. Phil ignored her. 'Here's my other favourite girl.' He said, swinging her back down to her feet. Vicki landed, a little rumpled and adjusted herself while Phil rummaged around for a clean plastic cup.

'Come on, tell me all about It.' said Phil.

'All about what?' replied Vicki

'The show, the whole big producer thing.'

'Phil…' Charlie interrupted. Vicki shot her a strange look and took a seat. 'It's going well.' She said, looking at Charlie. 'We're really reaching people.'

'That's great' enthused Phil. 'got any quiz shows? 'Know your seven deadly sins or something?'

Charlie tensed, but Vicki laughed. 'It's not like that.'

Phil made a sad face. 'No 'what is the fourth horseman'? You could call it 'soul's in jeopardy'' he finished.

Vicki smiled at him, indulgently. 'Ha ha Dad. Very funny.'

Phil thought so and expected everyone to share the joke. Charlie was sure he had been Goofy in a previous life. She sat down at the table with them.

From across the room, Erles watched the fractured family try to talk. He felt a pang of regret on Charlie's behalf. He had never been able to fathom their curious relationship. Then again, he had never been able to fathom people that much in general. On the whole, they were quite strange creatures, himself among them. Charlie must have had her young. She never spoke of Vicki's father. Erles didn't ask. His artists ranged from the quiet women of antique religions whose only joyous expressions were to be found on quilts hanging in the gallery, to the profoundly pathetic local drunk who passed as a watercolorist and yet was capable of such exquisite renderings that despite his distaste for the man, Erles found himself paying to have the idiot dried out. Charlie was moody, sullen, quiet, intensely private and unwilling to reveal anything that wasn't pried out of her with a packing crowbar; but her work! There was a mysticism locked in the flat plains of America, drifting down the rivers like alluvial gold. If you knew where to pan, the pickings were both profitable and satisfying to the soul. Around the gallery, the specimens of a rich lode were displayed on his walls and stands. Even this gathering was a slightly skewed Norman Rockwell rendition of 'Artists in Gallery'. Erles prayed for their continuing stability and happiness, that it may produce yet more commercially accessible outpourings.

Donald's fishing for approval brought him out of his reverie and he mustered his best encouraging smile. 'Fantastic work' he said whilst thinking 'If they don't sell soon, I am going to use this wall space for something else'.

---

Charlie made it through the whole night without a conflict with Vicki. It was a glorious reprieve. Even Phil commented as they drove away from her apartment, after watching Vicki get safely inside.

'You two are getting on well.' Phil said, turning the truck around.

'Mm hmm.' murmured Charlie.

Phil waited. 'Come on. Spill it.' He said, eventually.

Charlie looked at him protesting 'What?'

'All the stuff you didn't say tonight.'

Charlie remained silent.

'You can't carry this 'I ruined my child' thing around forever you know' Phil said, 'She's made her own choices, even if you don't agree with them.'

Charlie ignored him.

Phil sighed and turned on the radio. This irritated Charlie. 'Why did you do that?'

'You're just gonna sit there and brood all the way home, so I figgered the radio would make better company.'

Charlie relented. 'I'm sorry.'

'Can the apologies, makes you sound all Girly'

Charlie laughed. 'You are the biggest, most goofiest man ever. You know that Mr. Rachmann?'

Phil made a 'hyuk hyuk' noise and turned the radio up.

---

Vicki unlocked her apartment door and turned the hall light on, placing her bag on the table by the door and plugging in her mobile phone in its cradle. The apartment was sparsely decorated in a style that Erles would have disparagingly observed was reminiscent of a monastery. A small wooden cross commanded the main wall of the living room. The only break with the Spartan features was the large screen television and bank of recorders.

Vicki tapped the mouse beside a small terminal. The screen popped to life and she checked the recording streams. She sat back on the small two seat sofa and turned the main screen on. The reverends face burst forth onto the screen and the credits began rolling backwards. She skipped to the start of the show and checked it for quality. The cable broadcast with a little flakey her and there. She would have to call the cable guys and complain. The broadcast version was clean and strong; tick one for the propellerheads at the station. Checking her online account, Vicki opened the link to the ratings system. The number for broadcast weren't in, but the cable figures were. Still down. She sighed, closed the browser and switched the television off. Vicki turned the remaining lights off and prepared for bed.

In her nightdress, she knelt beside the bed and prayed. When her prayers were complete, she tucked herself between the sheets and lay on her back, looking towards the ceiling, waiting for sleep.

When the dreams came, they were like the rolling of an ocean, lifting her up and dropping her with a feeling of butterflies in her stomach, only to catch her and pitch her up into the air once more. She was flying, falling, leaping upwards again. In the sky, a beautiful face waited for her, looking down upon her, his glory radiating outwards. She could feel the burn of his touch, the warmth of a hidden sun. His eyes lingered over her and she shivered, writhing in her sleep.

In the morning, the bed clothes would be scattered to and across the bed, held on by the thinnest edges tucked into the bottom. Vicki would wake nervously with the fear that she had inadvertently committed some mortal sin and feel the need to pray.


	7. Chapter 6

The Reverend made a flick of his wrist that sent the tip of the fly sailing across the office to land on his bookshelf. It helpfully caught on a leather-bound edition and wedged itself firmly inside the cover. Vicki entered the office to find the Reverend reeling in a copy of the Good Book with some relish, until it edged past the lip of the bookshelf and dropped loudly onto the floor. Vicki tried to keep her eyes downcast, but couldn't avoid seeing the slightly bemused grin of the Reverend.

He was kitted out in waders, a belt, vest and silly hat. 'Come in Victoria!' he said cheerfully.

Victoria picked up the bible from the floor and placed it carefully back into its slot on the bookshelf. The Reverend reeled in his fly and lay the bamboo rod down across his desk. He sighed, and then appeared to muster his resolve. Vicki stood, waiting. 'Sit, sit.' he commanded. Vicki dutifully sat opposite him.

'Victoria, your commitment and service to this ministry have been nothing short of heroic.' He paused. 'Frankly, I think we've been selfish in allowing you to…'

'You're firing me?' Vicki asked quietly.

The Reverend shook his head. 'Not in a million years. We've had an offer from the Evangelical Ministries Association to pass the transmission license in.'

Vicki was devastated. Her head began to hurt. The Reverend saw her distress and quickly moved around the table to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. He looked down into her dark eyes, shining with tears. 'Now don't you start that my girl.'

The Reverend leaned back across the desk and pulled over a set of papers, shuffling them into order and donning his reading glasses. 'The EMA will add our transmission area to their own. I have of course, set some conditions, notably, the promotion of our leading producer.' He looked at her warmly. 'I'm leasing, not selling. That's so I can make sure they hold to their end of the bargain, and that's you my child.'

'I don't understand.' Said Vicki

'They get our transmitter and you get your own show. And a pay rise.'

Vicki felt the earth crumbling away from her.

The reverend frowned. 'I thought you'd be happy. Lord knows you deserve it.'

The Reverend took off his reading glasses and turned them over and over in his fingers. 'You've got a promising future ahead of you Victoria, this should be the beginning of a career, not the end of it.' He passed over an envelope. 'And this is from Margie and me.'

Vicki took the envelope without opening it, holding it limply in her fingers. The Reverend looked excitedly at her. 'Go on, open it.'

Vicki robotically opened the envelope and looked at a cheque, made out to her. She stared it at numbly. The Reverend took her expression as shock. 'Now don't think we're being overly generous, you are well worth it.' He stood up, taking her hands and helping her to rise. 'and I expect to tune in regularly to your new show.' Vicki looked at him beseechingly, but said nothing.

---

The clothes tumbled round and round in the dryer. Vicki watched them, absorbed in the chaotic fluctuations of sleeves and underwear. The radio was playing an old Hall & Oates song, in between bursts of product exhortations and a reminder to stay tuned to Classic Rock. The launderette was one of the few places to stay open much past 9 o'clock. The benefits of small town living. Vicki hadn't been further North since College. Town was bigger now, with more development starting to edge outwards into the farmland. It made her feel uneasy again and she shivered. A cough from behind her signalled someone seeking her attention.

It was the dark haired boy again, hovering nervously a few machines away, making it plain that he wasn't encroaching on her personal space. Vicki took the liberty of studying him overtly. He had pretty eyelashes and nice eyes above a wispy stubble that threatened to darken into a beard. He was dressed in cheap bluejeans and a grey t-shirt and had his nervous hands stuffed into his pockets as she studied him; he shuffled from foot to foot. 'Er. Hi.' He said, quietly.

Vicki remained impassive, waiting.

He stepped forward. 'I'm JJ. We met the other day.'

'Are you stalking me?'

JJ's jaw dropped. He blushed.

'Ah no, I'm not stalking you, I ah, um, you, ah.' He blathered, wishing mightily for an escape, maybe an earthquake, a heart attack, anything. 'Help me out here, I'm drowning.' he finished.

Vicki just stared at him. JJ's prayers were answered by the chime of the dryer as it finished its cycle. Vicki began unloading her clothes as if he wasn't there.

JJ waited whilst she loaded the basket and placed it on top of the next machine.

She began folding the clothes. JJ gathered up his courage and started to help her fold them. Vicki picked apart each garment as he placed it down and refolded it correctly. He watched her do it and tried to repeat the motions. The two of them stood in the otherwise empty launderette and folded clothes.

JJ walked silently back to the car beside Vicki, feeling a darkened sense of Déjà vu. Once again, she stopped in front of her car and placed the basket on the ground. JJ was almost dancing in frustration. She opened the door and climbed into the car; JJ's hand shot out and grabbed the window ledge. 'At least give me your number!' he begged.

Vicki opened her purse and took out a card. She wrote her number neatly down on the reverse side and handed it to him. JJ blinked, looking down at the card and then back at her. 'Thank you for helping me fold' she said flatly and started the car.

JJ took his hand away from the door as it clicked shut and the car pulled forward and out into the road. JJ watched it drive away, still blinking. He scratched absently at his head with the card in his hand, and then turned it over to read the phone number. He grinned and thumped the air. 'YES!' he shouted, echoing back from the closed storefronts. He pocketed the card and set off with a skip of his heels.

---

The field was awash with flowers open to the sun, except she knew it wasn't light, but his love, radiating down from the heavens. She couldn't meet his eye, but she knew he was watching her. He loved her. She was a flower in the field. His warmth touched her, her petals crinkled inwards as if caressed. She felt as if bursting with joy. Then night fell and the garden was gone.

Vicki sat bolt upright in bed looking at the dark blue shadows of night on her walls and realized she was awake.

---

The truck had difficulty navigating from asphalt to dirt. It had to hit the bank of earth at the edge of the road at an angle. It teetered precariously until a little firm pressure on the accelerator and much cursing from the driver sent it into a crumbling dirt slide onto the grass. The driver braked before he collided with the trees, leaving wide furrows in the moist earth. Phil waved directions from outside the cab.

The driver ignored them for a moment then submitted to direction and clawed around in the grass until he found better purchase on the dirt track.

Phil looked at the ruined section of earth at the gate and plotted silently to kill the idiot with his pitchfork. The driver eventually wound his window down and gave a sheepish smile. 'Sorry about the grass.' He said, seeing the angry welts in his side mirror.

Phil flexed his large brown fingers in and out, like an angry starfish. The driver got an idea what the imaginarily squeezed object was. He chose the passenger door to make an exit from the truck and ran around to the back section, unhooking the tarpaulins and starting the crane motor. Phil walked around to stand beside him. He dwarfed the driver. The driver handed him part of the tarpaulin.

'Here, help me get this off.' He said, gesturing at the coverings. Phil grunted and pulled at them. Together, the dragged the tarps away from the blocks. Phil whistled at the size of them.

'These are the billets. The other stuff is stacked underneath. You got a truck or a cart to put these into?' The driver asked, cautiously.

Phil hopped up onto the back of the truck and inspected the metal slabs. Charlie was going to get a kick out of these. 'What the hell are they?' he called to the driver.

'Mostly aluminum, some steel and a little copper.' The driver hopped up beside him. 'You make aircraft or something?'

Phil grinned, testing his strength against the edge of a billet. The billet was not about to budge and he didn't feel like a hernia today. 'It's for sculpture. So we gonna use your crane?'

The driver nodded. 'Oh boy yes. Where do you want it?'

Phil jumped down from the truck bed and disappeared into the prefab metal shed. A moment later a small forklift puttered out from the shed and docked at the side of the truck. 'Fill'er up' called Phil.

'Jeez that's a lot of metal' Charlie said admiring the billets. Her hand reached out automatically to run her fingers along the brushed edges. She could feel the liquidity of the metal waiting for her below the surface. The aluminum wanted to give way, unlike the fighting temperament of the steel. Visions of lacework and lattices crowded her mind. She grinned at Phil. 'Cool' she said.

'Great, because I ain't shifting it back out.' he said, exhausted. 'The driver wanted to know if you were building an airplane.' he chuckled to himself, but Charlie was already lost in the stack of billets.

'Ok.' He called. 'I'm gonna go.' Charlie waved a goodbye hand over the top of the pile.

Phil groaned as he got to his feet. 'Sure, you're welcome.'

Charlie took a couple of seconds to register and stood back up to thank him, but he was already outside and driving the fork back down the road.

She returned to the pile, selected a billet and used a small garage hoist to upright it in the centre of the room. When it was stable, she placed another billet in the hoist and levered it up to hang above the first. She touched the top surface of the base billet and the underside of the one in the hoist and then lowered the hoist until they touched with a wet smacking sound and runoff bulged like toothpaste in between the two blocks. She used a trowel to scrape the excess away, focusing on the seam, keeping it just warm enough to remain plastic, without collapsing into a puddle.

When the two billets were fused and stable, she repeated the process, moving her ladder to gain enough height to position the next billet. Piece by piece she assembled the billets into a monolith that stretched toward the ceiling.

Working the aluminum, she felt its inherent yearning to burn. A flame locked into metal. Charlie had her inspiration. She began to sculpt.

---

The truck driver moved his spoon around in the beans, making yet more furrows. He smiled. The diner was emptying with the last diners of the 'after work' crowd that rushed in for stomach lining before hitting the working bars. The alcoholic school bus driver sitting at the counter was taking furtive nips from a flask and dropping them in his coffee when he thought no one was looking. Two city workers were lying to each other over the remains of a chili plate special. A student was near the door, reading feverishly from some overly intellectual magazine and eating his sandwich in miserly bites to stretch out the time.

The door opened and a middle aged man in a raincoat entered.

'So much for subtlety.' The truck driver thought to himself.

The man sat at the counter and ordered dinner from the waitress who untucked a pen from her hair and wrote it all down very slowly. The truck driver waited for him to make contact. Instead, the man asked for hot sauce, finished his meal in a hurried gulping fashion, threw money on the tabletop and departed quickly.

By now, the truck driver was finished with his own meal and pushed the plate away. He left a tip and walked towards the door. As he passed the student, the student tipped him a wink, or a leer, or something in between. The truck driver paused at the door, as if adjusting his shoes.

'Got anything for me?' said the student.

'You look like a fucking hippy' muttered the truck driver.

'Fuck you jack; you thought it was the guy in the raincoat, right?'

The driver smiled. 'You got me there.'

'Outside in two minutes. The green VW.' Said the student. The driver stood and pushed the door open.

The driver was leaning against the side of the battered VW waiting. The student waved a hand. 'So. Here we are.'

The trucker nodded. 'yup. Here we are.'

The student looked irritated. 'I'm bored already. Hurry up and tell me so I can get the fuck out of here.'

The trucker waited. 'I think we can do better than this.' He said.

'Meaning what exactly?' said the student.

The truck driver narrowed his gaze. 'Meaning you can behave a little more professionally, or I can kick your ass.'

The student laughed. 'Oh please.'

The truck driver stepped into the students' personal space and confronted him, nose to chin. Peering down at him, the student still felt threatened and stepped back a pace. The truck driver seized his thin jacket lapels and pulled him down to eye level.

He held up a small memory stick and dropped it into his pocket. 'Here's some photo's I took for you. You can tell them I didn't put eyes on the subject, but there's nothing there, just some big guy and a few sheds. It's all on the stick.' He released the student, who stepped back.

The student touched his pocket to feel the memory stick. 'Ok, right. Got it.'

'That's better.' The trucker gave a curt nod and walked back towards the truck. 'Where do they get these people today?' he wondered aloud.

He didn't hear the sound of the shot, but felt the inrush of sharp air as it passed through his lungs. He fell towards the car park gravel, holding a hand to his chest. It came away with the bright red of blood heavy with oxygen.


	8. Chapter 7

John Redman's Long Strange Trip

The bakery was close shelved, the countertop just a long lean strip of wood that crammed the cashier in against loaves stacked in white paper bags. Patrons would queue at the door and mercilessly press forward, hurrying each transaction before the bread ran out. By the time John Redman got to the counter, the shelves were down to a few loaves and some pizza bases.

The cashier made a sad face. ''fraid there's not much left. The rush starts at 11.'

John looked across the limited selection. 'Two of those' he said, pointing at the dwindled stack and dropping a few bills on the counter. The cashier snagged two bread rolls and made change. John held the bread up and sniffed it, still aromatic of the oven. He pulled a chunk out and gave it a chomp. 'This is great' he said.

The cashier passed the change back and beamed. 'Yeah it's good isn't it.'

John looked around the shop. The other patrons had disappeared with their loaves. 'Been in the business long?'

The cashier nodded. 'My old man came from Umbria, back in the day.'

'He was a baker in Italy?'

'No, he was a pickpocket.'

John snorted bread out through his nose in surprise. The cashier laughed. 'He had to get out of Dodge quick and he came out here where my uncle was. My uncle was the baker.'

'Ah.' said John. 'Still confused.'

The cashier wiped his hands on his apron. 'Long story. My Uncle Luigi started the bakery, but he got carried away with some lady from Newark and there was some trouble, so it left my old man to run the bakery for a while, only thing was, he didn't know how to make the bread, so he kinda made it up until it tasted like he remembered.'

'Ok, now I get it.' said John Redman.

'You shoulda seen the house when I was a kid. Flour everywhere. Drove my mom nuts.'

John smiled and took another bite. 'This really is very good bread.'

The cashier looked around to make sure no one was watching, then drew the last loaf from the pile and handed it to him. They smiled at each other and the ghosts of the ancestors smiled with them. John acknowledged them with a nod and left the warmth of the bakery for the street.

Outside, the glorious sunshine was tinged with the brittle air of autumn. Midday traffic was light and the truck was parked close to the bakery. John Redman held the bread in one arm and thumbed the remote with the other. The truck chirped and the locks popped up from the door frames.

John opened the passenger door and deposited the arm load of groceries onto the floor of the passenger section. He ripped another hunk of the bread away and turned the folder on the passenger seat over so he could see the pictures again.

A tall old man with a farmer's craggy and ploughed face. Black and white stills, small thumbnail sets in proof sheets; A beautiful young girl, her faced stained with tears reflecting white pools of light as they caught at the edge of her cheek, flowing hair caught up in curls about her neck; Photocopies of pages from '_The Rolling Stone_'; A headline: _The CIA's Strange Trip_.

The article was only two pages long and the picture they finally published showed her in silhouette, anonymous. Her shadow seemed burned intaglio into the picture.

Raven was in the low branch of a tree growing out from a neat square hole in the cement. He cawed. John Redman tore off some of his bread and laid it on the hood of his truck. Raven hopped down from the tree and pecked at the bread. 'You brought me bread?' he complained.

John Redman shrugged. 'Sorry, I would have got some pastrami if I had known you were coming.'

Raven ate the bread anyway. 'So how's it going?'

John gestured at the pictures. 'I got these pictures.'

Raven looked hopped onto the windscreen and peered through it. 'Not much there.'

John nodded. 'True dat.' He broke off more hunks of bread and shared them equally with Raven, who snatched each one up greedily and swallowed it whole.

'Any hints?' John asked casually.

Raven ate the last of the bread on the roof and pecked at the loaf in John's hand. John put the entire loaf on the bonnet and watched as Raven tore into it.

A police car pulled to a stop beside the truck and the window rolled down.

'Hey, You.' called the Policeman.

'Uh oh' said the Raven.

John looked over at the Officer; 'Who, me?' he said through a mouthful of bread.

The policeman made a face, pulled the handbrake and opened his door. John tapped the folder on the seat shut with his knee and took another bite of bread.

'There's an ordinance against feeding the birds here mister.' The cop said, walking over from his car with one hand resting on the butt of his gun.

'I'm sorry, I didn't know.' John Redman explained. 'He just seemed hungry, that's all.'

Raven helpfully swallowed a huge piece of bread and began coughing and choking it down.

The policeman looked at the bird in dismay, and then swept the bread away from the bonnet with an arm.

'Hey! Mine!' croaked Raven, taking a well aimed peck at the policeman and drawing enough flesh for a pinch from his beak.

The Policeman danced backwards yelling. 'Shoo, shoo, shoo nasty bird'.

Raven fluttered his feathers and perched himself for flight. 'See you around John Redman.' He cawed and sprang into the air with the end of a loaf in his beak.

The Policeman was not amused. 'Got any ID on you?'

---

The holding cells featured flat locked box doors for the isolation section and a larger, traditional barred cell or 'main pen', as they referred to it locally. John Redman skipped the isolation sections and went straight to the main pen. An officer waited until he was inside the cell and the doors shut before unlocking his cuffs through the hand slot. This left John Redman smiling at the collection of miscreants crammed together on the benches. They seemed to be counterbalancing the open space around one lone prisoner seated cross legged on the bench at the far end of the cell.

John winced as blood started to return to his hands and he rubbed his wrists. 'Thanks' he said to the Officer, who scowled and walked away.

The inmates sized him up. One thickly set type with the warning markings of a lifetime under blunt jail house tattoo guns deemed himself a physical match and stood up from the bench and approached him with a swagger.

'Hiya!' said John, amiably.

The convict stepped closer and John straightened up, to give himself the full advantage of his height. The convict didn't hesitate in his walk, but John caught the flutter at the corner of his eye. A moment's break. John stuck out a hand. 'Hey!'

The convict tensed, as if struck. Johns extended hand bridged the space between them, not permitting him to pass. John left his hand there through the silence that signaled a refusal to shake. So he tried again. 'I'm John Redman.'

The convict looked down at his hand, then back up to his face, offering as much threat as he could in a snarl of his lips. John ignored it. 'I've offered you my name freely. I offer you my hand in brotherhood.'

The convict sneered and coiled up as if to strike.

'Shake the mans hand.' said a voice from the rear of the cell.

The tension fell away from between John Redman and the Convict, sucked back into the corner of the cell where the cross legged man sat, eyes closed. The convict hesitated. The cross legged mans eyes opened, clear bright blue, like a cloudless day. John kept his eyes firmly on the convict, seeing the cross legged man only in his peripheral vision, which was still sharp enough to show the long hair, plaited at the back, and the bone necklace at his throat.

'Shake his hand Leroy, it's the right thing to do.' said the cross legged man, very, very softly.

The convict was caught between two threats and began to retreat. John leaned forward, grasped the mans hand and shook it. The thickset convict bounced up and down with the pressure of his grip, registering a new respect for the lanky newcomer and quickly deciding a new strategy.

John smiled. 'There. Now there can be no bad blood between us.' He sauntered over to the free space on the benches, to the amazement of the other inmates. He stopped several feet from the cross legged man and dipped his head a touch.

The cool blue eyes swept him up and down. John held out his hand, palm up, then turned around and lifted it vertically. The cross legged man smiled and made a subtle movement of his own hand that echoed the gesture.

'May I sit?' John asked, taking a seat on the floor and adopting the same cross legged position.

The cool blue eyes regarded him. 'That Tonto shtick ain't gonna cut it inside, Brother.' The man surveyed the other inmates, who huddled further back against the wall as his gaze swept along them. 'There's a lot more of them than us.'

John grinned. 'I'm only visiting.'

The cross legged man raised an eyebrow. 'I bet she swore she was over 18.'

John laughed. 'Wrong kind of wildlife.'

'You'll fit right in' said the man.

Johns face hardened. 'My tribe's light on sissies, even the gay ones'll knock your lights out.'

A lush quiet fell inside the cell. The cheery sounds of afternoon filtered into the building, speaking of light and air and treacherous freedom.

John leaned forward. 'I'm close enough for you and the guy behind me' John warned. The inmate who had crept quietly forward stopped still in his tracks. John turned his head to wink at him, and then back again to face the blue eyed man. He met his gaze and they tussled in an open eyed stare. John saw into the depths of the blue, saw the pain, the yearning. Another damaged spirit, but still, something left.

The cross legged man breathed out. 'Sit down.' he commanded the inmate and then bowed his head ever-so-slightly to John.

John rustled thought his pocket and produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He thumbed the soft pack and pulled out a cigarette. He placed the pack on the bench, then lit the cigarette and blew two soft puffs of smoke into the air. They rose and escaped through the tiny barred slot at the top of the wall. He stubbed it carefully out and lay the unused majority back on the outside of the pack. The cross legged man picked up the pack and it disappeared into his waistband. 'So what brings you this way?' he asked, scratching at his arm. John saw the neatly manicured fingernails scratching at a blurred green tattoo that may have been an ace of spades, or a shamrock.

'We've had a run of bad luck of late and I'm following snake, coyote and raven medicine looking for the source.'

The man snorted. 'What are you, fresh off the reservation?'

John nodded. 'More or less.'

The cross legged man gave him an 'are you for real' expression and then settled back against the wall.

John looked around the cell at the silent inmates, waiting on the next words of the story. He settled in comfortably and started his tale.

'Well you see, it all started like this. I'd been out in the desert with a few friends…'

---

Chief William Bill hated his name. He even preferred the derisory nickname' he had acquired, such as, 'Chief Spends Freely' to 'Chief Double Bill'. He didn't mind that his folks had been made religious by some well meaning nuisance, or even that his own indoctrinated religious beliefs gave him no pause from guilt over the affair with that girl from housekeeping.

What he did mind, was the lack of imagination. His proud nations had produced some of the most memorable names in any language; nominative poetry. But 'Bill Bill' was the killer. These thoughts crossed his mind as John Redman came into the room. Chief Bill wondered if Johns parents had been converted by the same unimaginative missionaries. Genocide of his peoples made all the more raw by the addition of ridiculous Christian names. He dismissed these unpleasant intrusions to his thinking and returned to thinking about the problems of John Redman.

John was a likeable enough, if troubled youth, grown into a rough and tumble adult with a smile like a slanting lean to. If he'd believed in any of that crap, he would have agreed that John played around too much with Coyote.

John came in and sat down without so much as a by your leave. Chief Bill gave a grunt of irritation. John waited. Chief Bill thought to himself 'I can play that game too mister.' and set his jaw at an appropriate level of displeasure.

John just smiled at him.

Chief Bill felt ready to burst so he barked at him. 'Are you going to tell me or maybe I'm going to guess?'

John shrank back a little under the onslaught. 'Whoa Chief. I wasn't sure you wanted to know.'

Chief Bill picked up the phone and rattled it. 'Phone call from Ted. He got a phone call from the FBI. They got a phone call from some lawyer who says three of his clients have gone missing in the desert.' he leant forward and whispered. 'You didn't, ah, y'know' he made a gesture and a small 'gzzt' noise.

John shook his head. 'Just a scare.'

Chief Bill breathed out a huge sigh of relief. 'Thank Christ. Sorry 'bout that John. Just can't seem to catch a break here. Now I've got the gaming commission wanting to see the tapes, who knows why.'

John raised a hand. 'I think I got a warning tonight.'

Chief Bill sat back. 'The Guido's threatened you? No surprise.'

John shook his head. 'No…it wasn't one of those. It was one of those other kinds of ones.'

Chief Bill held up both hands. 'Oh no you don't. I have enough on my plate without any of that moonshine. All I want is for you to disappear for a few days. Take a vacation, see Vegas. No, on second thoughts, don't go to Vegas, go somewhere with no casinos.' Chief Bill finished his prognostication and determined the matter ended. Then he looked at the growing pile of messages on his desk. A rotten run of luck. He picked up the phone. 'Tell Frank I'm sending John up.'

---

John walked down the long rows of duplicate doors, subtle lighting and plush carpets until the numbers dwindled.

Frank Whitefeather opened before he knocked. 'John Boy, come in, come in' he said through gap teeth and ushered him inside the room.

'A corner suite; Very nice' john observed.

Frank nodded. 'Courtesy of Chief Spends Freely.' They both smiled at the gag. 'Still, they clean the room everyday and the breakfast bar is fully loaded. So come and sit with your old uncle and tell me why Chief Double Bill has sent you up here. I got poker on in an hour so make it snappy.'

John obediently sat on the lounge in the small living area of the hotel room. As he sank into the seats he gave the suede a squeeze. 'Jeez, these are nice' John said.

'Trying to go up market. Investors to please. Now, what's with you?' Frank took up a perch on the ottoman.

John Redman told Frank the tale of the desert dawn and the three heads. Frank listened intently until he was done, then sucked air through the gap in his teeth and considered the omens. 'Snake needs to shed his skin before the tribe can have regrowth.'

'What the hell does that mean' complained John Redman.

Frank waved a hand at their surroundings. 'All this, you know where it comes from?'

John Redman groaned. Frank threw a cushion at him and it bounced off his chest. 'No wiseacres. You don't know this so shut up and listen. Once the tribe was so poor we didn't have dirt to eat. All this; the casino, the hotel, all this came from a loan we got back in the seventies.'

John shrugged. 'So what, the mob owns us?'

Frank felt around for another cushion to throw but came up empty. 'No the mob doesn't own us.' He scowled. 'Your uncle John, the man your daddy named you after, secured the stake money.'

'What's Uncle John got to do with Coyote? Didn't he die in Nam or prison or something?'

Frank sighed. 'He was listed missing in 'Nam, but he showed up here in '71, alive as could be. He told me he was working for the government, all secret, but with a bunch of money.'

John looked for a connection and couldn't find one. 'So…'

'When we were boys, he used to hunt with Coyote. That's what kept him alive in the jungle, all the tricks Coyote had taught him, but when he came back, coyote didn't want to hunt with him anymore. He said John smells bad. But snake, snake said he smelled real good.' Frank's cheek twitched. 'You think you're the only one who talks to coyote, silly boy?'

John grinned.

'Anyways, after your Uncle left again to go work with the government, Coyote would sing at night and when I'd ask him who his songs were for, he would laugh at me, but I knew he was singing a Death Song for your Uncle.'

John Redman felt a cold sensation working its way along his arms.

Frank nodded. 'You feel it too. Coyote is still singing his death song even now, and that's not right.'

---

John finished his sentence and let it hang in the air. The inmates were breathing slowly and rhythmically.

Eventually, the cross legged man spoke. 'That's a good story. I hope you find your Coyote.'

'Me too' agreed John Redman. 'Now I shared a story. You share one.'

The cross legged man's blue eyes twinkled. 'I've been in the system way too long, not much to show for a life, except these.' He gestured to the faded tattoos. 'And I have seen some scary shit. But I know one scary story.'

John Redman leaned forward, feeling the scent of prey. 'I love a good story.'

The cross legged man continued. 'One day I saw a man burst into flames and burn to death, with no one near him.'


	9. Chapter 8

Erles scanned the menu looking for something delicious. He made noises at each entry in the menu. 'Noveau. Noveau. Erk, pesto does _not_ go with that.' He looked about for a waiter to assail with his opinions but instead put the menu down and rose to meet his guest.

"Erles Daaarling' said a pot bellied, middle aged man approaching the table. They air kissed and Erles sat straight back down. 'The menu's atrocious; whose idea was this place?' Erles nagged. His guest, the great opinionologist Joseph Bardley cocked his head. 'Let me pick for you, I know the chef. Allergic to anything yet?'

'Only your lamentable reviews'

'Hah!' said Joseph. 'Pick better artists.'

Erles smiled. 'Gotcha.'

Joseph gave him an indulgent look. 'If you weren't such a cutie Erles, you would have been flogged to death by angry critics by now.' Joseph sent a withering glare in the direction of the Maitre D, who smacked a waiter in the back of his head and pointed to their table. The waiter scurried over, notepad at the ready. 'The tasting plate for two, and something to drink? ' Joseph directed his enquiry at Erles, who gave a nod. 'Excellent. A bottle of Moscato please.'

'Very good sir.' Said the waiter, writing it down.

Joseph tapped the notepad. 'Chop chop my man.' The waited looked up worriedly and ran quickly to the kitchen with his order. Joseph acknowledged the Maitre D as the waiter left. When Joseph turned his attentions back to the table, the Maitre D breathed a sigh of relief.

A small envelope was sitting on the linen between them.

Joseph regarded it with disdain. 'Erles, Darling, what the hell is that?'

'Remember that Morris painting?'

Joseph grimaced. 'Yes. Yes I do. Why bring that old chestnut up again, hmm?'

Erles nudged the envelope towards him with his fork. Joseph peered into his face, trying to read something, but Erles remained inscrutable. Joseph took the envelope and ran his bread knife along the edge, buckling the paper as it opened. He looked at the small piece of paper. 'Erles, you can't be serious. I'm almost offended.'

Erles smiled. 'It's too much money to be offended. Consider the Morris matter finally settled.'

Joseph did a double take. 'Hang on a minute. _You_ are giving me a refund?' He reached forward and touched Erles' forehead. 'Hmm. No fever.'

Joseph swiftly pocketed the cheque and unfolded his napkin. 'Have you gone mad? I mean, I am ecstatic to take your money, but you weren't even _insured _for that piece. What gives?'

The waiter appeared with a large white platter and laid it gingerly on the table between them, then hovered with an oversized pepper grinder until Joseph gave him a wide eyed glare. The waiter high tailed it for the safety of other customers.

When the waiter was gone and the first artistically arranged item from the tray was on its way to Erles mouth, Joseph tried again. 'Dish. Where'd you come up with 20 grand?'

Erles chewed on the lightly braised squid. 'Too salty' he observed.

Joseph started drumming on the table impatiently. 'You've got that cat-swallowed-the-cream look Erles and it's driving me nuts. I am going to stab you in the tie with my Entrée fork if you don't tell me this instant!'

Erles waited until Joseph was almost hyperventilating. 'That's some of my commission on one of my artists.'

Josephs jaw dropped. 'Get out of town!'

Erles took a risk with char-grilled Angus beef slices in a beet relish. 'Too sweet.'

Joseph gave a small golf clap. 'Bravo Mr. Nygaard. What'd you fake?'

'I wish. No this is a new piece, maybe a year or two old.'

Joseph was definitely interested. 'Even better. Painting?'

Erles shook his head. 'Sculpture. A real talent.'

Picking his own entry to the tasting plate, Joseph took a bite, winced and then dabbed at his mouth with the napkin. 'Who was the buyer?'

'Private, Chicago.'

'Ah' said Joseph. 'Would have been better if it was an institution, but still. Do I know the artist?'

Erles shook his head. 'What's a scoop worth these days in column inches?'

Joseph smiled. 'If I didn't know better Mr. Nygaard, I'd say you were reeling me in right now.'

Erles grinned. 'The night is only young.'

---

Two cranes were locked at right angles to one another, the load balanced between them. The foreman was waving a hand to indicate the distance to the base while the other workmen stood around the courtyard, leaning on shovels, safely out of the way.

When the block was positioned over the base, the foreman waved for it to be inched down slowly to touch the base, until the cranes lines went slack and the foreman waved a hand to stop. The workmen rolled a ladder forward and one brave soul climbed to the top to unhook the wrappings. Even with three of them working at various heights it took a half hour to unwrap the package. The foreman gave a whistle and the workmen clambered down from their ladders and cleared away the detritus of packing to stand next to the foreman and look admiringly at the object they had installed. The foreman looked around the courtyard and saw a light from the first floor window of the building. The Director was watching. He gave her a thumbs up, which she returned and then drew the blinds shut.

Inside the meeting room, the conference table was awash with papers, but only on the one side. Around the Directors seat, detail had withdrawn a strategic distance. The Director had retreated further, to stand at the window and observe the installation of their new piece. One of the attorneys joined her at the window. 'You got budget for _that_?'

The Director pulled the blind drawn and regarded him with a sympathetic smile. He blinked and then scurried back to the table and the other attorneys gathered in cabal at the messy end.

The Director opted for a Tea instead of returning to her seat. She walked over to the kitchenette alcove and poured water from the boiling water tap into a teapot, waiting for the scent to rise from the tea.

The attorneys ran out of arguments and were playing rock paper scissors to determine who would make the next approach. One unlucky delegate approached her.

'Madame Director, if we could only have a minute more of your time.'

The Director batted her eyelashes at him and sighed. 'Must we?'

The attorney pulled at his necktie to release some of the steam that had been building up over the last four nonsensical hours. '_Please' _ he entreated.

The Director smiled. 'Sure. I've got all day.'

She finished making her tea, _lemon, 1 sweetener, _and walked it carefully over to the table, perched on the edge of its saucer. She kept her eyes on it as she lowered it to the table, watching the steam rise and dissipate. When she was settled and calm, she finally looked at them.

The lead attorney from State ahemmed, clearing his throat for oratory. 'Madame Director, we propose a compromise. If you will allow one of our auditors to provide an abstracted overview of your operations, with the..'

The Director slurped her tea. 'No.'

A day of this had taken its toll. 'Damn it Kathy!' he snapped, thumping the table.

The Director made an exaggerated slurping noise from her tea, favoring him with a pleasant expression.

Storm clouds gathered on his brow. 'Gentlemen, if we could have a moment please.' The lead attorney said quietly. 'Guys, get the fuck out of here' he added, when they failed to move. 'NOW.'

'Take your papers with you.' suggested the Director. The attorneys' looked uncertainly at her, then to the lead attorney, who nodded. They collected their materials and filed out the door, shutting it behind them. The lead attorney waited until the door clicked solidly shut, and then he was off, mouth running in pent up frustration. 'Kathy, you can't keep ignoring congress.'

The Director nodded. 'Sure I can.'

He wanted to bounce out of his chair, but settled for gripping the arms rests and shaking. 'Even black ops budgets get overview, for fucks sake. You are going to have to cooperate one way or another.' He finished, stabbing an accusatory finger at her.

The Directors smile vanished. 'Dear Jeffrey, I'm not going to let you look up my skirts just because you want to.'

'Kathy, we need to know what's going on. We need to be _sure.' _ The attorney looked around the room, as if looking at a series of evidentiary exhibits. 'Especially given the History of this place.'.

The Director put her tea down and stared the attorney back against his seat.

'Ouch. Low blow Jeffery. Let's get a few things straight, shall we? Point one: This place doesn't _have _a history. The building's less than a year old. Point two: _We_ don't have a history. I'm only clearing up someone else's mess, so that wont wash with me. As for your budget ploy, we were established through grant. That's it. No other ties. We're not a department, or an agency. We're a self terminating program that will disperse its funds back into the public coffers when we're done.'

'Kathy..'

'Don't 'Kathy' me Jeffrey. You need to go and report to your agency golf buddies that we said 'no dice'.'

The attorney looked as if he'd been slapped. 'What are you talking ab..'

The Director shook her head, interrupting his denial. 'Jeffrey; really.'

The attorney clasped his hands and spoke quietly, as if to a wayward child. 'How long Kathy? How long do you go unmonitored?'

The Director considered the question. 'Until it ends.'

'What ends?'

The Director looked at him through the rising steam from her tea. She spoke like an oracle, through the mists. 'We have a thing called the green line, it's a mathematical model. We're running close to optimal now, which is why no one is going to interfere.' She put her cup firmly back down on the saucer where it rattled empty. 'There. We're done.'

The attorney opened his mouth to speak but the Director was looking right into him and he caught something in the back of her eyes, something saurian, lurking. He thought better of it, closed his mouth and then his folder. 'We're done.'

---

Inside the ops room, Forrester was rolling tape. Or bits, more accurately. Signals were taken onto the RAM drive and barely ever saw a hard drive, let alone physical media. Each of the RAM drives was wired with its own special brand of power supply, that could both withstand external power surges, or turn itself into a blank slate with a milliseconds burst from the data killer circuits.

Forrester monitored the signals, but didn't listen to the traffic. The Director took the headphones from him as he held them out.

'What an asshole. He didn't even bother to get himself checked. They must think we're the boy scouts or something' Forrester giggled.

The Director examined the call routing as she listened in on the call from the departing attorneys. DC. Not Langley though. Jeffrey was talking to whoever had sent him. 'Where the dog goes, so goes the master' the Director murmured to herself.

The voice on the line chopped in and out, Forrester selected a different filter and Jeffrey's voice came in solidly. 'She's a cast iron bitch. No, she won't go for that. I don't know who her fucking sponsor is.'

The Director put the headphones aside. 'I'm only getting one side of the conversation.'

Forrester shrugged. 'Sorry, best I can do.'

The Director returned the phones to her ear. The conversation finished abruptly and the device played the soft ambient noise and low conversation of the attorneys in the rear of their Secret Agent Catalogue Black SUV. The Director put the headphones aside. 'Run everything you get on them until that device goes dead. They're going to try to penetrate us.'

Forrester nodded. 'Right you are, Director.' The Director gave him a pat on the shoulder and left him to his boffinry.

She left the ops room and checked herself through the two security gates that led to the Green Room.

Carlson, the operator for the night, was playing air guitar to obscure 80's rock as she entered. 'Hey Miss K.' He called out too loudly, then realized his mistake and took off his headphones.

'Hi Bert. What's the news that news?'

Carlson turned the music down and nudged the mouse on his desk. The walls of the room came alive with a series of train track grids. Bars and graphs shifted and updated under each of the main lines. 'All green, except for Manila.'

The Director zoomed in to The Philippines. The bars were shifting, the main line of lights deep amber. 'Significant?'

Bert frowned. 'Terminus.' He brightened a little. 'Natural causes though.'

The Director nodded. 'That's good. That's good. Anything we can do to help?'

Bert ran the linkages for the track. 'No descendants, only two relatives on the fathers' side. Want to send flowers?' The Director shook her head. 'No, we'll send someone to confirm closure.' The green tracked lines were spread across the walls like ivy, growing in brilliance. Each track ran separately from its neighbours, never crossing. Each of the green lines meant a little more redemption, one more piece of their collective souls ransomed from the past. She saw the lines and was satisfied.

---

The State Troopers had fenced the area at the rear of the parking lot with their cars. One poor patrons ride was stuck in between the patrol cars and the field that bordered the parking lot. Despite her complaints, the burly troopers gave her a polite 'ma'am' and an offer of a ride home, but otherwise, it was now a crime scene, and that meant no moving anything.

The body was covered by a thin foil paneled thermal blanket and dew was starting to form on the edges as the morning air warmed.

A local police car ground to a halt in the gravel and its occupant stepped out. He looked over to the Statie's – a full head taller than himself, all recruited from the ranks of small town football defensive lines. Add the hat, and they gave the appearance of ragged mountain ranges. The Mount Rushmore of law enforcement. The local officer straightened his uniform and walked briskly over.

'Morning Luka' drawled the Statie as he approached.

'Morning Hank' he replied in an equally sardonic drawl. He looked over to the body. 'So who gets this one?'

The State Trooper shrugged. 'It's yours iffen you want it. We were on patrol, heard the call and thought you might like some help on scene.'

'Gee thanks.' said the local officer. 'Mind if I take a look?'

The Statie gave him a broad grin, like a row of white picket fence palings. 'Go right ahead.' They gave each other unpleasant professional smiles and walked past the patrol cars to the body, the Trooper giving a report as they walked.

'Sometime last night our victim pulled his truck into the lot, bought hisself a meal at the diner, then left around eight, according to the waitress.'

The local officer scanned the car park. 'That his truck?'

'Yessir' replied the Trooper. 'Empty in the back, some personal effects in the front.'

The local officer leaned down to the body and pulled back the thermal blanket. A thin man in short sleeves and jeans was sprawled face down on the gravel. 'Shot in the back. Damn.' he said to himself. Tattoos on the bare arms. Dark, blurred lines. Jailhouse. The local officer looked up at the trooper. 'Do we know this guy?'

The trooper nodded. 'ID on him says Desmond Jackson. He's got a sheet, mostly petty larceny. Did four years upstate.'

Luka pointed to the green shamrock on his arm. 'Did you see this?'

The trooper nodded. 'Yup.'

'Speed deal gone bad?'

'Could be.'

Luka stood up. 'I hate these friggin' guys.'

The Trooper pulled his reflective sunglasses down to ward off the morning. 'Wait till you see what's in the truck.'

The cab was cluttered with old fast food boxes and scattered pieces of clothing.

'Someone was searching for something in here?' asked Luka, pointing to the mess.

The Trooper looked over the interior. 'You haven't seen inside too many rigs have you? This is clean compared to some of them. But hold right there.' The trooper gave the rear of the seat a solid thump and it fell forward, revealing a cavity with a row of hooks and a faint metallic oil scent. Luka sniffed. 'Gun oil?'

The trooper nodded. 'My guess is that our friend here has been carrying around something heavier than a pistol.'

Luka picked up one of the pieces of paper. Swastikas and the American flag. Luka looked to the skies. 'Aw crap' he cursed. 'We're gonna have to call the ATF.'

The trooper clapped him on the shoulder. Luka looked at him with a stony face. 'That's why you're handing this one over, isn't it.'

The trooper adjusted his glasses, invisible behind the reflective screen. 'Been nice seeing you again Luka, you stay well now.' The Trooper said and stomped away with far too much enthusiasm.

Luka reluctantly turned his attentions back to the task at hand. He gathered a clipboard from the centre console and flipped through the delivery notes on the way back to his cruiser. He picked up the radio and called it in to the office, asking for a bus and the county coroner. The Staties had kindly advised them, so they were on their way. Luka dropped the mike back onto its peg and leaned against his car to absorb some of the warmth from the rising sun. Something clicked at the back of his mind and he returned to the drop sheet. The final address caught his attention and he felt an old crawling sensation, as if someone was walking over his grave. He shivered in the sunlight.


	10. Chapter 9

Everybody had gathered together in the main studio to await their fate. The crew grizzled and gossiped; being called into the studio may or may not be a 'good' thing. Vicki was as uncertain as any of them, but tried not to show it. She sat quietly, by herself on the first row of seats.

Marline, one of the dressers tried to make nice with a cup of coffee. 'Here dear, I thought you might want something.'

Vicki mustered up a quiet thank you and a smile, accepting the unwanted coffee.

Marline sat down with a plump whoosh of air. 'So did you hear anything?' she asked innocently.

Vicki shook her head.

Marline scowled. This young woman gave her the heebie-jeebies', besides which, she'd heard tell that her family were from the 'countryside', and not the good countryside either. Marline patted Vicki's leg. 'I'm sure it will all be fine' she said and made a quick getaway.

Vicki watched her go, then stood and took the coffee back to the table at the side of the studio.

The doors to the studio burst open at that moment and a tanned, well dressed man in sunglasses entered at the head of a phalanx of smiling young people who seemed to have escaped from an 'Archie' comic. He gave a great big smile and threw a hand up in greeting, calling 'Haloooo!' from across the room.

The crew turned with a collective gasp as the man spearheaded a charge of cheerful faces that rammed into the crew and intermingled, shaking hands. The man stood at the edge of the crowd, watching the as the crew were flustered from one handshake to the next. He spied Vicki on the periphery and tipped her a wink.

'Well, now that you've all met' he said. The gathering gave a collective chuckle.

'We were so darn keen to meet you all that we just had to come straight down.' He called out, loudly enough for everyone to hear. 'I'm Josiah DeJean and this is the KFLR Family, of which your station is now a member.' The newcomers commenced applauding. Soon everyone was clapping.

'We're gonna take some time with each of you over the next few weeks as we start to integrate the...'

Ronny, the floor manager spoke up. 'What about our show?'

Josiah DeJean delighted in answering the anticipated worry. 'Our ministry is a growing enterprise! With the addition of this broadcast license, we can expect to grow our audience by almost a million potential viewers and that flock, my friends, will need a lot of tending.'

Ronny scowled. 'So what, we just run your tapes here? What do the rest of us do?'

Josiah DeJean gave a beatific smile. 'Its Ronald, isn't it? Yes? Well Ronald, there is a lot of experience here, in this room, and a lot of love of the Lord, isn't that right.' He said, looking around them. 'Amen' responded one of the helpers.

Josiah took his cue. 'We're going to take the best of what you do here and add it to what we do in the ministry, and that is going to be one powerful combination.'

'Amen.'

Ronny stepped away from the group, closer to Josiah. 'You mean your going to cherry pick who you want to keep and fire the rest of us?'

Josiah looked at him with concern. 'Heavens no Ronald, we're a _family. _But even families have to make adjustments from time to time.'

Ronny folded his arms in front of him

Josiah clapped him on the shoulder. 'Don't you fret Ronald. The Lord has a plan for each of us; we just have to be willing to work with it.'

Ronny shook his arm away and stormed off into the wings of the stage.

'Right!' said Josiah, clapping his hands. 'Each of you has been assigned a partner to help orient both our teams on the facilities. Now you pair up and get to work, we've got a lot of things to do!'

One by one the Archie crowd collected their assigned crew member and walked them away, leaving Vicki standing by herself.

Josiah waited until they had all cleared away. 'Looks like I'll be your orientation partner!' he said, walking briskly over to Vicki and extending a hand.

She took it meekly, submitting to his enthusiastic pumping.

'You must be Victoria.' he exclaimed. 'It's just _great_ to meet you. I've been a big fan of the Reverend's show. What you do here, with the resources you've got, is just amazing.'

He gathered her in his arm and pointed her towards the control room, walking her with him. 'The Reverend had a lot of good things to say about you Victoria.'

'It's Vicki' she said flatly. Josiah winced, as if she'd shouted.

'Of course, Vicki, how stupid of me. It's a lovely name.'

Vicki smiled.

Josiah took a moment to clear his head, shaking his head from side to side as if clearing water from his ears. 'Well there you go. Vicki. _Vicki.' _he said, testing the name.

Vicki watched him with growing puzzlement as he repeated it over and over, like a mantra. She stepped free of his arm.

'Are you going to fire us?' Vicki asked directly.

'Most of you, yes.' Josiah said.

'Are you going to fire me too?'

Josiah seemed dazed. 'No, we can't fire you. The Reverend put a poison pill clause in the deal, we've got to keep you at least 18 months, whether we want to or not.'

Vicki waited.

Several of the other orientation teams were buzzing around the studio now. Someone powered up the set and the studio lights kicked on, dispelling the day's shadows from the walls. It brought Josiah back to the moment. He looked at her uncertainly, as if he'd lost the last minute of his life and couldn't quite remember where he was.

'Right!' he said, clapping his hands once more. 'Why don't you show me around the control room?'

---

Luka approached the gate and unlatched it, swinging it wide. He got back into the patrol car and drove it to the other side of the gate, then got out and shut the gate behind him.

He drove up to the house and parked the patrol car in the drive near the shade of the wide awnings.

'Hello' he called out.

The front door was unlocked, but his calls remained unanswered.

The house was much as he remembered it. Mrs. M's taste had run to 'country eclectic.' A smile came unbidden to his lips until other memories crowded in and he shut the door, unwilling to intrude further on the house or his memories.

By the time he had returned to his car, someone was approaching from the fields, a large bear of a man in overalls sporting a wild orange beard.

He raised a hand in greeting and Luka responded and waited until the man approached. 'Hiya.'

The man grew even larger he neared. Luka found himself thinking that he had entered the land of the cornfield giants today.

'Hey!' called the Giant.

'At least he's friendly' thought Luka. 'You the owner?'

Phil stepped out from the grass of the field and onto the hard packed earth of the driveway.

He shook his head. 'I rent the fields, the owner's in the workshop.' He reached out a hand. 'I'm Phil Rachmann. What can I do you for?'

Luka took the mans hand, a firm rough grip, not trying too hard to demonstrate the iron springs that field work made of his arms. Luka found himself liking the man immediately. 'I'm Sergeant Wachowski.' He said, returning the shake. 'Luka.' He added, unusually. 'Yeah. Anyway. Isn't this the old Mander place?'

Phil nodded. 'Yep, Cynthia passed on a couple of years back.'

'You knew the Manders?'

Phil shook his head. 'I never met them; I just know them through Charlie.'

Luka jumped, even though he had known. Knew.

Phil looked concerned. 'Are you ok?'

Luka waved a hand. 'Yeah, I'm fine, I just…'

Phil appraised the wiry man. 'It's hot as hell out here. Come on inside and let's get a drink of water.'

Phil opened the ice box and pulled out an old fashioned blue and white pitcher. 'Lemonade.' He explained, setting up two glasses.

Luka looked around the room. Bright sunlight flooded in from the windows above the sink and on the other wall.

'These are our organic lemons.' Phil bragged, passing him a glass and taking a seat at the kitchen table.

Luka sat opposite him, taking a sip. 'That's nice.'

'We get a triple A rating on our organics. Soil here is fantastically active, microbiologically speaking.'

Luka looked at the wild haired man. 'You're a scientist?'

Phil nodded. 'How'd you guess?'

'Most of the local farmers wouldn't use that word.'

Phil nudged him in a friendly fashion, almost causing Luka to slide off his chair.

'You'd be surprised. Most of the folks round here know the same things; just talk it a bit folksier. This whole region has had one of the lowest uses of pesticides and phosphates in the state.'

'Hippies and cults' Luka thought to himself. 'Don't trust chemical companies'

Phil laughed. 'No they don't.'

Luka realized he'd spoken aloud. 'Yeah. So, I just had a couple of..'

'Did you say you knew Charlie?' Phil interrupted.

Luka didn't jump this time, but it slammed shut his question. 'Ah, yeah. A little. We were in middle school together. I didn't know her so well.' He said, thinking back to the distant, flaming haired girl he had known. 'But I knew ah. I knew.' He looked around as if to find something else to replace it with and having failed, settled on the truth. 'I knew Dalton.'

Phil said nothing, waiting for him to finish.

'We were on the team together, back in the day.'

'Vicki's father.' Phil added.

'Yeah.' Luka paused in remembrance. 'You know I haven't thought about Dal in a very long time.' He quickly changed the subject. 'So how is Vicki doing? She must be in her twenties by now'

Phil finished his lemonade and poured another. 'She's doing great. She's producing TV shows for a Christian network.'

Luka took this in, relieved. 'That's great. And Charlie?'

Phil pointed over his shoulder. 'She's out the back, working on a new sculpture. You wanna go say hey?'

Luka shook his head. 'No, no. I don't want to bother her.' He finished his lemonade. 'Ok, well thanks very much for the lemonade Mr. Rachmann.'

'Phil'

Luka smiled. 'Phil. Yeah.' He stood and began walking towards the front door.

Phil followed him out to the car. As Luka went to open the door, Phil stopped him with a question. 'You never did say why you came. What was it?'

Luka stopped. 'I don't know. Some strange idea, but it was just coincidence.'

Phil closed the distance between them. 'I'm not a big fan of coincidence.'

Luka sighed. 'A man was murdered last night, at a truck stop on the highway.'

Phil blinked. 'Huh?'

Luka bent down into the patrol car and retrieved the clip board. 'He was a delivery driver. You were his last stop.'

Phil scratched his head. 'I took in a slab of steel for Charlie. Was this a short guy, looked a little rough?'

Luka nodded. 'That's him.'

Phil pointed to the ruts in the field. 'He was here alright. Lookit the mess he made getting the truck in.'

Luka followed Phil's gesture to the dark red ruts. He walked over to them and followed the trail from the road with his eyes. 'Some sloppy driving. Did he seem nervous? High?'

'Nope; Just a crappy driver.'

Luka measured Phil's face, running his own personal lie detector sense. If he was going to question him, he might as well do it properly. 'Can you give me the details on what happened?'

'Sure. He got here late afternoon, we craned the slabs onto my fork, I signed for it and he left around five.'

'Had you ever seen him before?'

'Nope. Charlie buys the metal from some online place, but she was in the back working, so I signed for it.'

Luka thought about it for a moment. 'Look, Phil, can I tell you something?'

Phil focused his gaze intently on Luka. 'Sure Luka. What?'

Luka scanned the perimeter around them; not speaking until he had traversed from the fields to the house and to the gate again with his eyes and found no one but the two of them. 'I don't think you killed this guy.'

Phil snorted, his belly shook with a laugh. 'Gee, thanks mister.'

Luka made a wry face. 'There's a history here.'

'Don't tell me I'm 'not from round these parts'. I've been producing crops here for fifteen years now; I think I know a smidge about the place.' Phil growled.

'Have you ever heard of 'The Brand'?' Luka countered.

Phil's mouth snapped shut. 'No.'

'Ok, good.' Luka held up a flier, the swastika half curled over. 'You see this stuff?'

Phil nodded.

'This is some of our local history that we don't like to mention, even to people who've been around a while.'

'What's this got to do with Charlie?' Phil demanded.

Luka looked at him, shocked. 'I didn't say it had anything to do with Charlie.'

Phil wagged a finger at him. 'Don't treat me like an outsider.'

Luka looked at the glowering man and determined that he would not like to mess with an enormous, angry organic farmer. 'If Charlie hasn't told you, then it's not my place to tell.'

Phil glowered some more. 'I ain't gonna ask her. Her past is her business, but so help me, if there's something I need to know to keep her safe…'

They both stopped talking, conscious of a common sense of protectiveness that sprang from somewhere that still called men to slay dragons. 'No wonder I like him', Luka thought. 'Ok. The victim was wearing tattoos that identify him as a member of the Aryan Brotherhood, or one of their offshoots. The hard core gang bangers call it The Brand. Now his death probably doesn't have anything to do with this farm, or this house or Charlie or whatever. They run a lot of speed from places like this...'

'Isolated farm houses with scientists has got to register on your radar' Phil mused. Luka laughed. 'Yes, yes it does. When I get back to town, I m going to run your name through everything I can think of, but that's just part of my job. But there's no way Charlie would be mixed up with the AB.'

'I admire your thoroughness.' Phil said quietly.

Luka met his eyes. 'I am telling you this because even if Charlie doesn't have a connection to them now, she has a history.'

'Bullshit.' Said Phil. 'She's not a fucking Nazi.'

'Not her. Not Charlie. Dalton.'

Phil blanched.

'I'm telling you this because you may need it to keep her safe. If the Brand have come calling, you want to know. You keep a gun in the house?'

Phil shook his head. 'She won't hear of it.'

Luka pulled a card from his wallet and handed it to him. 'Anyone else turns up unexpectedly. Anything strange. Any time you get a funny feeling, do not screw around. You call 911, you call me, you _call_.'

Phil took the card, looking at it in wonder. 'Are you serious?'

Luka said nothing, his lips a thin line. 'You're a big guy Phil, but tall doesn't stop a bullet.' Luka climbed into the patrol car and shut the door.

Phil squatted down to eye level. 'Thank you' he said.

Luka gave him a curt nod and pulled the car around. Phil walked down and opened the gate, then closed it behind the car as it left the hard dirt for the asphalted road. On second thought, he checked the gate again and forced the bolt home until it groaned, then turned around to his fields.

---

Charlie came into the house well after the moon had risen. Her clothes were pockmarked with small burned craters and she was dripping with sweat. Phil was labeling boxes on the verandah and she approached and wrapped her arms around him.

'How goes the most successful biofarmer in the county?' she said'

'Mmmph' he replied. 'Maybe the best looking…' He spun around and looked at her. His heart raced as it always did. She was the moon to his tides.

'What's wrong?' she asked, peering at his furrowed brow.

'An old friend of yours dropped by today.'

Charlie released him and stood back. 'I don't have any old friends Phil.'

'Sergeant Wachowski?'

Charlie breathed inwards sharply. 'Luka?'

'So you know him?'

Charlie walked away from the packing boxes, suddenly cold. 'We went to the same school.'

'So he said.'

Something in his voice made her turn back to ask; 'What else did he say?'

Phil picked up a cloth and rubbed his hands clean, or at least cleaner. 'Said Dalton was a Nazi and maybe his friends would come looking for you.'

'I doubt that very much.' Charlie said firmly.

Phil sat on the edge of the table he was using as a packing bench. 'You know I've never asked...'

Charlie pursed her lips. 'And I am forever grateful that you don't'.

Phil picked up a lemon and wiped it off, putting it into the last space in the box. 'I said I won't, but your friend seemed kinda spooked.'

He stood and walked over to her. Charlie pulled away, but he encircled her with his huge forearms, pulling her close. 'You never need to tell me anything other than that you love me. The rest I can do without, but I am worried.'

Charlie reluctantly gave way to the safety of his embrace. She looked up into his eyes.

'You're not competing with a dead man for my affections, are you?'

Phil managed a half hearted smile. 'I got as much of your heart as you have to give, I ain't complainin'. I just worry that the things you can't tell me will hurt you somehow.'

Charlie kissed him. 'I promise you, no ones going to hurt us. I drew a line in the sand a long time ago and they will never ever step across it.'

Phil watched her trying to convince him, eager for him to believe. He let her off the hook and pulled her close.

Charlie rested her chin on his shoulder and looked out across the moonlit fields. She finished her sentence, quietly, to herself.

'Because I will lay them utterly to waste'.


	11. chapter 10 interlude

Thursday night was two-for one night, or five weekly videos for five bucks, so it brought the out of towners in. Field hands sneaking a look down the 'adult' aisle when the coast was clear of moms with screaming kids looking for Disney reruns to baby-sit for the night. Charlie, rebellious in all things, ignored the locked shelves of tapes and read from _The Portable Dorothy Parker,_ absently tapping the customers account number into the blinking one eyed yellow terminal on the counter as they passed.

'Is this any good?' said one of the customers. Charlie continued reading but made a vague 'mm-hmm' sound that could have passed for yes.

'Are you sure? It says stuff about butt holes.'

Charlie almost dropped her book. Dalton grinned at her, holding up a lurid cover from the adult section. Charlie gave him a withering glare. 'Ha ha. Very funny Dal.'

Dalton adopted a smacked puppy expression. 'Aww come on, it was at least a little funny.'

An actual customer approached the counter, eyes widening as she looked at the cover the young man was holding.

'Plots not so good' Dalton critiqued for her.

He eyes widened. Charlie hissed, and reached forward to take the customers choice, a much less arousing 'Ordinary People'.

The lady sniffed as Charlie took her three dollars, walking away with the carriage of a _respectable_ person. As soon as she got outside the video storefront, she slumped back into a country waddle. Dalton burst out laughing and Charlie couldn't help but follow.

When the store was closed, Dalton walked along the street with her, towards her car. They walked leisurely, not saying anything, the streets quiet. In all the time he had been gone Charlie had felt insubstantial, as if light would pass right through her. She had been somehow faded. The perpetual sense of unease she had carried had been supplanted by something else, a feeling she had thought burned away; a sense of absence. His return had poured colour back into her dreams and the thrall of everything that had carried her before was broken.

'Hey Charlie.' Dalton said.

'Mmm?'

He stopped and clasped her fingertips. 'Will you come to dinner?'

'Ok' she said, watching his eyes. Something made her ask 'Dinner?'

'At my house. Friday night. '

Charlie shook her head in wonderment. 'You want me, us, to have dinner with your father?'

Dalton nodded vigorously.

'Dal, your dad hates me.'

He laughed. 'He _likes_ you. Ma likes you, Sarah thinks you're the prettiest thing ever and Daniel, well you know how he feels about you.' Dalton made a spooky noise and claw fingers, which he dug into her side. Charlie squealed and pushed him away.

'Eeeewww, that is so gross. I'd rather kiss a skunk.'

Dalton skipped around her, still trying to tickle her. 'Come on, say you'll do it, I'll make it worth your while.'

Charlie stopped walking. 'Dalton what are you talking about.'

Dalton's smile shrank a little, but not much. 'They said if I re-up, they'll post me to Germany.'

Charlie's world crumbled inwards. 'Germany?'

'Yeah. My pop's gonna hate it. You know how thrilled he was when I joined.'

Charlie felt numb. She spoke from an abstract sense of herself, detached from the tearing emotions. 'That was the judge's sense of humour.'

Dalton made a wry face. 'Join the enemy or go to jail, do not collect the wrath of your father. Some judge.'

'Dalton, you were running guns. What did you think was going to happen?' Charlie folded her arms, angry now.

Dalton thought about it for a minute. 'I guess I didn't. But I'm thinking about things now, and I want something different. You know I can't have that here.'

He was right and Charlie knew it. This place had been her sanctuary, the place she had taken refuge after the Big Bad went down. For Dalton, this place was the Big Bad, and his father the uncontrollable force. She understood what it cost to be free.

'So, I figured we could tell him on Friday.'

Charlie's lip curled. 'Having me there won't stop him freaking out.'

Dalton gave her a puzzled look. 'Charlie, don't you get it? I want you to come with me.' When she still didn't get it, he grabbed her and kissed her.

When she put her arms around him and kissed him back, he realized she did get it.

---

'Oh no' said Cynthia forcefully. "You are not going there by yourself.'

Charlie groaned, but inwardly she felt a sense of relief. Still, to keep up appearances, she complained. 'I'm not a baby Cynthia.'

Ben laughed until Cynthia gave him a stern don't-mess-with-me glare. He quickly shut his mouth, but couldn't keep the mirth all the way hidden. Charlie knew the battle was lost.

'I'm calling his mother and telling her she'll be setting extra places for dinner' Cynthia finished, and began undoing her apron. She was out the door and stomping towards the store before Charlie could think of anything to say that would stop her. Instead, Charlie sat down at the breakfast nook with Ben, who watched her with a deep regard. '

What?' she said, looking at his Hallmark expression.

Ben got up and gave her a hug, leaving her bewildered.

"It's not like they eat people.' Charlie said, grabbing a piece of toast.

Ben chuckled again. 'No Darlin', they don't eat people. They just have their ways. I agree that the People ought to be a little suspicious of the Government, it's what keep's them in check.' Ben left a lot unsaid. Neither Charlie nor he needed to review their positions on trust and the government. 'Isaiah's just a little more forthright about it.'

Charlie nodded. 'He wants to march on Washington and blow up the IRS. That's pretty forth right all right.'

Ben grew suddenly serious. 'Charlie, you know I think the world of Dalton.'

Charlie stopped chewing her toast. 'But?'

Ben sighed. 'Family is a powerful bond. I worry that..' he trailed away. He was always so careful around her, always trying to avoid tripping a memory that he felt he had no right to renew. This little girl had been placed in his trust by a man on the run from the law; but when he had accepted the charge, he had known it was right. . This farm was the only safe place she had ever known, and the love Cynthia shone on her adopted daughter provided a harbour in an otherwise nightmarish childhood. Be damned if he would see her harmed again. Still, she was a young _woman_ now, strong and powerful in her own right. If anyone could take care of herself…

'You're doing it again' Charlie complained.

Ben dismissed his melancholia. 'Eat your toast.' he said.

---

Dinner was a somber affair. Charlie felt like she was seated at a Pennsylvanian pitchfork convention. The metal spoon clattered on a blue and white china platter pulled out from a Special Occasions cabinet and Charlie politely declined another potato.

Only Ben seemed comfortable. Isaiah had greeted them at the door to the main house with a friendly fake smile and much handshaking. Ben broke the ice at a rate of knots, being genuinely complementary about the joinery, admiring the deer heads posted around the room and leading them all into the dining room in a constant cheerful chatter.

Isaiah, who'd not had another person say anything more than was absolutely necessary to him in some time, was greatly pleased and enthused loudly about their accomplishments, whilst seating everyone at the long wooden dining table.

Dalton sat bolt upright, looking as uncomfortable as one of the deer heads. Next to him sat his sister Sarah; a small, wispy haired blonde thing, silent in the presence of her elders, but otherwise a chirpy butterfly of a child.

Dalton's brother Daniel kept trying to make eye contact with Charlie from across the table. 'Creep' Charlie thought.

Isaiah caught her look and spoke directly to her.

"Have you seen the orchard?'

Charlie met Isaiah's stare. It was a two part stare, starting with a glare to see if you were paying attention and finishing with a shrinking of the pupil, as if she had caught something she wasn't meant to see.

'No.' she replied, without trying to extend the conversation.

Ben jumped right in 'We had no luck with fruit, too fiddly for me. Canola, tho', oh boy, the new strain has been...'

'No good will come from messin' with the plant. Seeds won't grow from one batch to the next, so's you'll always be buyin' it from them.' Isaiah sneered.

Ben nodded thoughtfully. 'I heard that too, but we've been breeding plants for certain traits since the Egyptians, maybe it's just another step.'

'Ben, they'll own you. Just like they want to own us all.' Isaiah snorted. 'It's all part of their plan.'

Ben remained externally cheerful, but Charlie saw the tiniest crinkling of his hands, as if grabbing a shovel. Charlie thought a shovel would come in handy right about now.

'Whose plan?' asked Sara, innocently.

Isaiah seized upon the question, as if he'd been waiting for it. 'The un-government child. The godless. Look at congress. Homosexuals, Jews, Catholics. Between'em, it's no wonder a god fearing man has a hard time of things.'

'Pa…' Dalton tried bravely to stem the flow.

Isaiah gave him a wide eyed glare that made Charlie reach for her fork. One good swing and she could pop that bug eye right out of his head. Ben was watching her and gave a slight shake of his head. Charlie released her fork.

Isaiah pushed back from the table and stood up, expounding as he went. 'The government for the people, of the people is long gone. All we have now is the rotting hulk, hollowed out from the inside by these _maggots._' He stabbed a finger at Dalton. 'They tried to take my son from me, made him a conscript in their mercenary forces. Who knows what brainwashing he was subjected to?'

Dalton looked down at his plate. Charlie felt a pang of sympathy, but then noticed Daniel still leering at her. She kicked him under the table. Daniel shot backwards, grabbing at his shin.

'Daniel!' yelled Isaiah.

'She kicked me, Pa!' Daniel whined.

'Sorry, I must have slipped' said Charlie, apologetically. Isaiah turned his burning gaze back upon her. Charlie remained calmly poised on her seat. 'You were talking about the government conspiracy' she said helpfully.

'Well, how about dessert?' said Katie, standing up from the table.

'I'll help' said Cynthia, quickly, and motioned for Charlie to accompany her.

Isaiah held up a hand. 'Let Charlie stay here a minute, Dan'll help, wont you Dan?' He turned to Dalton. 'You take your sister along too.'

Dan mumbled something in reply and sullenly got up from the table. Dalton rose, uncertainly, looking at Charlie. She gave him a gentle flick of the head acknowledging that she had this under control. He gave a grateful smile and helped Sara down from her chair. Cynthia cast a pointed look at Ben as she left, following them into the kitchen. Charlie and Ben remained at the table with Isaiah. The room was suddenly very quiet.

'So.' Said Ben.

Isaiah was staring at Charlie. 'My boy likes you' he said. Charlie was sure his gaze was meant to terrify her, to subdue her with his will alone from across the table. This just made her pissed, but she simply smiled and batted her eyes at him.

Isaiah laughed.

'You're a fine looking girl Charlie, and lord knows my boy is of an age where he ought to have a wife.'

'Whoa now, hang on a minute' Ben interrupted. 'Let's not put the cart before the horse.'

Isaiah rounded on him. 'Who said there's gonna be a wedding? The likes of you think you can just waltz on into _my _family?'

Ben gave a great big smile, seething. 'Charlie, would you go see if Cynthia needs a hand.'

'No way. I'm staying for this.' She said. Both men turned to look at her. 'Neither of you get to make decisions for me.'

'Listen girl' Isaiah snapped.

Charlie fixed Isaiah in her sights. 'Don't you talk to me that way Isaiah, not now, not ever.'

Cynthia, standing in the hall way at the head of the returning tribe, gasped.

Dalton pushed past her. 'Pa…'

Isaiah thundered to his feet. 'I _know_ about you.' He said, pointing at Charlie. 'I _know_ who you work for.' He turned on Dalton. 'And you! You serve them, and now you want to bring their whore into my house?'

Isaiah would have said more, but he chose that moment to sail through the air and collide with the wall. Ben stood beside him, his broad palm white from the impact of his slap on Isaiah's jaw. Ben bent down over him. 'I've known you an awful long time Isaiah. You ought to know better and mind your manners, or I'll mind you for them.' Ben stood and grabbed Charlie's arm in an iron grip. 'Come on Darlin', I've had enough dessert.'

'It was lovely to see you!' chirped Katie as they departed.

Ben walked them through the compound as quickly as he could without quite running. 'Well that went well' said Cynthia, hitching her skirt up to better run. Bens face was grim, but Charlie was sniggering. By the time they made it to the truck, they were all laughing. Cynthia stopped. 'This isn't funny.'

Ben nodded and started up the truck. 'Nope, it aint funny. Charlie, you and that boy are just gonna have a good old fashioned elopement.'

Charlie looked aghast at him. Ben sniggered some more. 'Aww come on Darlin', it's plain to see. Anyways, he can't be as crazy as his daddy, no one can.'

The truck bounced down the drive, headed towards the main road. A set of lights roared out from the fence line. Ben swerved hard to the right as the other pickup shot straight into the space where the front of the car had been and they sideswiped, the two trucks conforming and pulling to a halt. Ben jumped out of the car yelling. 'What the hell do you think…?'

Daniel fire two rounds into the air then brought the pistol down level with Bens head.

'Oh my god' Cynthia said, sucking in a breath.

Three other men got out of the truck, carrying rifles.

Daniel was approaching Ben, moving his head from side to side, twitching. Ben watched him calmly. 'Charlie.' He said under his breath. Cynthia put a hand on her shoulder, Charlie took it and squeezed, letting it go and stepping out from the truck. As soon as she emerged, she captured Daniels attention.

He didn't say anything; he just stood there, gun pointed at Ben, staring at her, unashamedly.

'Daniel.' She said. 'You need to put the gun down.'

Daniel snorted. 'You're coming back to the house.'

Charlie shook her head. 'Daniel, you need to let us go, before this gets any worse.'

One of the armed men laughed. 'Sure we do.'

Daniel echoed the laugh.

'Well you got us son, what now?' Ben asked.

'You're comin' back, and your gonna 'poligise for what you did.'

Ben shook his head. 'I aint gonna apologise Daniel. Might as well shoot.'

'Ben!' yelled Cynthia. Ben shrugged.

Daniel danced from side to side.

'They was tresspassin' suggested one of the armed men. 'We fired a warning shot, but they kept on coming. He's got a gun rack in that truck.'

Charlie knew this could go either way. It was about time she tipped the scales. 'Daniel, this is your last chance.'

This provoked another round of laughter. Daniel turned the gun on her.

'Good' thought Charlie. 'Now it's self defence.' She laughed out loud. It disquieted Daniel, but the men behind him kept up their catcalls of encouragement.

Charlie reached for it, and it was there, waiting in the darkness.

''Do you believe in God, Daniel?'

Daniels eyes were wide. Somehow he knew he was in danger, but unable to determine the threat. The air around him grew thick and warm, like summer had come. The grass around them crackled.

'Do you believe that his righteous fire will smite the wicked?'

The gun in his hands was warm, hot, hotter; it burned. He dropped the gun. The noise and motion as the gun dropped into the dry grass caused the armed men to swing their rifles up.

'Charlie, NO!' yelled Dalton, running down the path. The wind was rising about her, her hair streaming back from her face, a light shining from within.

Daniel looked into her face and saw destruction. He dropped to his knees beside his pistol, which had now started a small circle of flames in the dry grass. Dalton ran over to the pickup and grabbed the rifle from the first man, snatching it from him and shoving it into the ribs of the second. 'Guns, down, now!' he screamed. He swung the stock to his shoulder and pointed the rifle at the second mans head. 'James, all the guns go down now, no foolin'.'

They lowered the weapons, glowering at Dalton. Dalton grabbed them away and threw them onto the grass. He swung the stock into the wisecracking James's face. 'You asshole, you egged him on didn't you?'

Charlie felt the Big Bad struggle within her; it was not to be denied tonight. It had been called and demanded its release, but Charlie was no longer a leaf on the breeze. She felt the potential of everything to burn; an untapped sea of desire to spring from an inert state into energy. Maybe fires started because sometimes things _wanted_ to burn.

'Get away from the truck.'

Dalton turned to look at Charlie. 'What?'

Charlie struggled to speak. 'Get….everyone…away…from the truck…now…'

Cynthia dived out of the truck and pulled Ben away. 'Dalton, move those men, she can't hold it in.'

Barely able to comprehend, Dalton, motioned for the men to move.

The truck exploded in a column of flame that went straight up into the skies in a perfect circle. It raged like an incandescent firework trapped in a bottle, burned brightly and briefly, then fell to glowing metal embers.

Daniel looked up into the eyes of the Goddess. He understood.


	12. chapter 11

The guard was smirking as he led the prisoner to the interview room. He was still handcuffed, but the guard walked in front of him and opened the door.

A grey suited Detective, frayed at the edges, gave the prisoner a narrow glare. He was standing, waiting. The two chairs had been pulled back from the table, as if someone had recently departed. 'Take the cuffs of him Bob.' said the Detective.

'Yessir!' said Bob, snappily. Bob got close enough to John Redman to smile into his ear as he undid the handcuffs. 'Boy' he whispered. 'You sure got him riled.'

'Bob!'

Bob smiled and held up the open cuffs. John Redman rubbed his wrists. 'Thanks'

Bob gave him a nod. 'Don't mention it.' He gave a nod to the Detective, who scowled in reply. Bob departed and shut the door behind him.

John Redman waited.

'Sit' commanded the Detective.

John Redman sat.

Waiting long enough to assert dominance, the Detective sat. The muscles on his face were tight.

'Not happy.' said John Redman.

'What?' the man shot back angrily.

John Redman shrugged. 'Someone left you in here mad.'

The Detective's scowl was replaced by a new expression. 'Go on.'

John looked around the room. 'Bubba didn't lock the door. No cuffs. I'm free, aren't I?'

The Detective sat back and crossed him arms.

John Redman grinned and leaned forward. 'Ok. So far so good, right? No, don't tell me, I'm on a roll here.' John said, delighting in the Detectives discomfort. 'I'm only in here now because you're curious!' John finished and sat back, awaiting his opponents move.

A cheek muscle twitched.

John smacked his thigh. 'Touchdown!' he said, standing up. 'You know, your folks here are very polite. This is a real high class establishment. I'm gonna recommend it to my friends.' John turned to go.

'Wait.' Said the detective. 'How do you know you're free to go?'

John smiled. 'Nice try, Detective.'

'At least answer a question.' said the Detective, standing up and walking over to the door. 'How'd you pull those strings? You didn't even make a phone call?'

John clapped him on the shoulder. 'Ol' Indian trick. I sent up a smoke signal.'

The Detective made a sour face, but opened the door for him.

---

John greeted the last of the afternoon sunlight and took a deep breath of air. Even a few hours in a cage was enough of a reminder. He muttered something ungracious about a particular species of bird and then immediately checked around the trees to make sure he hadn't been overheard.

His truck was parked helpfully outside the station. He opened the door to the truck and immediately catalogued the signs of a search. The folder was out of place, fine particles from fingerprint powder had been hastily wiped away. He sighed and wiped the last bits away with his fingertips. Sloppy work. He took a few moments to orient himself and clear his head. The sun was setting and it was time to find a nice, safe motel.

When the world was asleep or watching Leno, John called home. The phone rang a while. John frowned and hung up. He used his mobile to dial the casino and waited for Chief Double Bill.

'Heya John' said Chief Bill unpleasantly.

'Heya Chief.' John replied warmly.

'What do you need?'

John took a sip from a Mountain Dew can, purchased from the battered vending machine downstairs. 'I was wondering if the tribe still had that criminal lawyer on retainer.'

Chief Bill groaned loudly down the phone. John laughed. 'Not for me. I found a Kaw brave who's fallen on hard times. He did me a solid. Just wondered if we have anyone we can send?'

There was a rustling on the other end of the line and an off mike comment about waifs and orphans.

'What?' said John, baiting him.

'We're not a goddam charity John' growled Chief Bill.

John cracked a smile so broad the sound of his gums flapped all the way down the line.

The Chief sighed. 'We are, aren't we?'

'Right you are, oh wise Chief' John said, drinking another sip

Chief Bill said something nasty about John's private parts, but acquiesced. 'Same place we hauled you out of?'

John picked up his wallet and took out the edge of a cigarette packet with a phone number scratched into it. 'Yup. He was in transit in the holding cells. He's not going to get us any good press, but he's been very helpful and I'd appreciate it if we could do something for him.'

'I'll see what I can do.'

'Thanks Chief Bill.'

'Stay out of trouble John.' Chief Bill hung up.

John finished his can of soda and tossed it neatly into the bin. He lay down on the bed and stretched out, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the quiet hiss of the rooms air conditioner as it tried to level out the temperature. He looked into the individual valleys and peaks of the rough bagged plaster ceiling. The light from the street below scattered and broke across the surface, light, then dark, then light again, making the peaks glow like the dirty ice caps of a mountain. John watched the ceiling coalesce into a solid mass and then break apart again, scattering, then reforming endlessly. His eyes blurred and he slept.

The man was of no physical threat. He was too small. A washed up, half-functioning vegetable; fat from the tranquilisers and rich food. How the hell he'd even got out of the compound was a mystery. He would have to be taken care of, but first, neutralize the girl.

Would she come to him? Was she ready now?

She was waiting behind her father, waiting for her kind friend to help them. She ran to him and clung at his side. He brushed her hair, telling her it would be safe, so that she didn't see the needle until it plunged into her shoulder. She screamed, looking up into his eyes, uncomprehendingly. He cast her away to fall to the soft straw of the stables and looked back to the father; His time had come.

'She won't be burning anyone tonight.' He said and laughed. He crouched and waited to kill this stupid, fat man. The man ran over to the child and put a hand to her neck. She was gasping for air. 'What have you done to her?'

He smiled at the man. How easy this all was. Where was the thrill of the hunt he had so longed for? He felt a terrible pain in his skull. 'A stroke?' he thought, worried that his moment of consummation with the child was to be denied him.

The man was staring at him. 'You've killed her you bastard. You're going to burn, do you hear me? You're going to fucking burn for ever, DO YOU HEAR ME! FOREVER!' screamed the man. His eyes. His eyes were…And then his hands were on fire. His arms were on fire. Flames were _inside_. But the child! She was unconscious! Impossible! The flames, they were…

John Redman shot to consciousness flailing his arms, burning, burning. He thrashed and rolled across the bed, colliding with the bedside table. The lamp, bolted to the table, arrested his progress with a solid crash. John leapt to hit feet, looking about him for the source of flames. Finding none, he began to take in his surroundings. He was in a moderately cold hotel room with a sore head and a broken lamp. John sat down on the bed and rubbed his head.

'This sucks' said John Redman to no one in particular. 'And now my head hurts.' He stood up, grabbed his few possessions and headed for the truck.

---

The small stucco house was awash with flowers. They had been stuffed into every available nook and cranny, as if the garden had joined the funeral procession. Mourners in white, black or blue were solemnly progressing through the house and up the casket. They would kneel or curtsy beside it and make the sign of the cross. The body of a wizened old man lay in serene repose inside the casket, dressed in a white naval uniform. A priest made comforting noises to each of the mourners as they stopped to offer their prayers. When the American reached the head of the queue, he stopped and took a picture.

'That's a strange devotion' said the Priest.

The American smiled. 'Sorry Father, it seemed like the only way I could get it done. Where are the family?'

'Rosita's with her mother. Are you a friend of the family?'

The American shook his head. 'No. I'm with the embassy.'

'Ah' said the Priest. 'Checking him off your list? Are you afraid someone's going to claim his social security?'

Other mourners pushed forward and the American stepped back with an apologetic wave to allow them through. 'Is there anyone I could talk to about the Deceased, Father…'

'Father Minuto.' replied the Priest. 'This is going to go on for some time; I guess I can take a break. Let's step outside.'

The Priest and the American walked out into the street where the line of mourners ran to the end of the block, past the other small white houses of the neighbourhood.

'Must have been a popular guy' noted the American.

The priest fell into step beside him. 'Yes, you could say that. So why is the embassy interested in a dead man?'

'A dead US serviceman.'

The priest smiled. 'He was out of the navy before you were born. He was a common garden variety sailor.'

'You knew him well?'

'Well enough.'

They reached the end of the line of mourners and followed the block around. More cars were parking and people joining the line. 'Why was he so popular?'

The Priest shrugged. 'He did a lot of work with the community. Why are you taking pictures?'

The American smiled. 'Sad to say, but for confirmation.'

The Priest nodded. 'I can confirm that he is dead. The embassy was already notified. I also know all the staff at the embassy.' He confided. 'So you're not with them really, are you?'

The American looked bewildered. 'Ah, well…'

The Priest stopped and gave him a hard poke in the ribs. 'Lying to a priest is a sin. If you're some newshound, you've got bad manners and should be ashamed of yourself.'

The American rubbed his sore ribs. 'Hey, watch it with the poking Padre, there's not much covering the bone down there you know.'

'Well?' demanded the priest.

'I really am with the Embassy, they'll confirm it if you ask.'

'A half truth is also a lie' admonished the Priest.

'Ok, all right already. They would have confirmed it though.' said the American wryly. 'I'm just here to help.'

The Priest prepared to poke him again, but stopped short. 'Why?'

The American considered telling him the truth, but settled on something that would pass as close to it as he could, without actually being a lie. 'Because he served his country.' The American raised a hand to intercept the Priests finger. The Priest settled for a scowl. 'Now you want to help him, _now?'_

The American reacted indignantly. 'Not just now. We've been keeping an eye out for him for some time. The house. His medical.'

'He did well enough on his own' snapped the Priest.

"Yes Father he did. But we kept an eye out. We only interfere when there's something we can do.' He raised a right hand. 'God's truth.'

The Priest watched him carefully, and then relented. 'You better not be blaspheming. You'll get in big trouble.'

When they finally reached the end of the line of mourners, the Priest stopped walking. 'Well, you go back and tell your people that he doesn't need anymore help, but if you're feeling generous, there's plenty here that could do with it.'

The American frowned.

The priest nodded thoughtfully. 'I didn't think so. Well, thank you for coming anyway. And thank you for telling me at least some of the truth.'

The American made a short bow and turned to walk away.

'Hey Mister.' Called the priest. 'Do you really still want to help him?

---

The American waited at the bar and refused three offers of a dance, until a Bouncer came over to inform him that if he didn't pay for a dance, or at least drink something stronger than a Cola, he was going to have to leave. The American smiled and produced a $100 bill on cue, as if from thin air. He handed it to the bouncer and put another down on the bar top. 'A tip.' He explained.

The Bouncer gave him a strange look, but accepted the money and withdrew. The American scanned the bar area. Pretty young Filipina's in immodest clothing were dancing in groups on a platform. One by one, they were chosen by overweight tourists to sit on their lap and help them spend their hard currency. The American watched distastefully as a plump example of his country overtly fondled the ass of an unhappy looking female dancer, who met his eyes from across the room, as if pleading for rescue. He steeled himself and continued looking around the room, breaking eye contact as quickly as he could and leaving her to the misery of a traveler from Poughkeepsie.

'Senor?' said a soft voice from behind him. The American spun around swiftly, feeling foolish and amateur to have let this small Filipino man sneak up on him. The boy was posing as a man, masquerading behind a thin growth on his upper lip. He was nervously waiting for a response.

'Senor, are you the American?'

"Lots of American's here. Take your pick' he responded.

The man stepped back a pace and began to mingle with the crowd.

'Hey' called the American. 'I'm sorry; you just startled me, that's all. Are you father Minuto's friend?'

The man nodded. 'I'm Alberto Pinoy. Come this way.'

He walked back through the crowd towards the rear of the stage and a small door. 'Back entrance' thought the American, lamenting his misappraisal of the clubs layout. He was going to have to work on his observation, this could get him killed. He followed the man and stepped through the doorway concealed behind a piece of wall.

'This way' said the man, leading him onwards.

They walked up the poorly lit corridor to a set of stairs. Dancers were dressing in rooms that ran along the length of the hall way. At the stairs, Alberto put his hand on his arm and stopped him ascending.

'You must get him out of here Senor, you must help.' The man said, urgently.

'Why?' asked the American. 'Who?'

Alberto looked around, nervously licking his lips. The shrill laughs of the girls preparing to go onstage echoed down the corridor. 'Senor, he is a holy man, like his Grandfather before him.'

The Americans eyes narrowed. 'His Grandfather?'

'Yes Senor. The Viejo's son died with a motorcycle ten years ago, but he had a child from a young girl from the villages. The Viejo knew Jesus loved his family and that they would work together to perform miracles, so he brought the child into the city.'

Alberto started up the stairs again with the American following in a growing sense of unease.

'Miracles?'

The door at the top of the stairs was barred, scarred and locked. Alberto rapped three times on the door and the eyeslit opened. He said something in low Tagalog and the door opened. He stepped through and motioned for the American to follow.

The top floor of the club was a narrow strip that covered less floor space than downstairs. A room hidden by the expansion from the sides of the neighbouring shops. The air was thick with Blue smoke and incense. On a bench at the centre of the room a man was laying on his stomach on a table. He was staring at them as they entered, his teeth clenched around the butt end of a smouldering cigarette. He winced as the young man standing over him massaged his back. Alberto held the American back from intruding. 'You must wait until he is finished operating, Senor, then we may talk to him.'

The American goggled at Alberto. 'What the f...' he managed to say before his eyes were drawn to the thin young man sweating profusely over the back of the smoker on the table. He was squeezing the man's back. The man on the table winced and the young man pulled back suddenly, with a wet popping sound. His hands dripped blood and he tossed a small lump into a tray on the table, where it landed with the rattle of metal on metal. Where the young mans hands had been was a welt with a lip print of blood around it. He wiped the skin with a towel and the skin was dry, pink and eerily intact. Albert leaned into the American's side and whispered. 'The Mangkukulam fear his Magic Senor. He also took out a bullet for them, but it was not blessed, so the patient died. Without the Viejo to guide him, they will see _him_ dead.'

The American watched as the thin young man at the table clapped his hands together once more and pushed them into the skin of the patient. His hands flowed into the mans' side as if into quicksand.

'Jesus.' whispered the American.

Alberto made the sign of the cross. 'Yes Senor, The Viejo has sent us an angel.'

The American watched the magic healer perform a miracle and let out a small moan, thinking of the Green Line; 'This is going to royally screw up our algorithms.'


	13. chapter 12

JJ had his head stuck in a book. He didn't even lift it when Rufus called out to him. Rufus had to tap him on his shoulder.

'JJ, wake up man.'

JJ looked at him with bleary eyes. 'Oh. Hey Ruf.'sup.'

Rufus stood back and stared at him. 'Are you ok? I mean, like _really_ ok?'

JJ blinked. Rufus looked down at the book he was holding, its translucent pages crammed with tiny print. He gasped and grabbed at the book. JJ struggled to hold onto it, but the sheer amazement gave Rufus super powers and he snatched it up, closed the cover and stood dumbfounded. The thick black book was clad in faux leather, recycled dinosaur pressed into thin, crappy sheets and embossed with shiny yellow lettering to give it a prestigious appearance whilst remaining affordable.

'No way.' Rufus said.

'She's into it.' JJ said lamely. 'She works for a Church or something.'

Rufus guffawed and held the Bible aloft. 'Now THAT's commitment!' he said, collapsing into laughter. JJ tried to snatch it back and Rufus stopped playing keep-away with the Bible after one solid glare. JJ walked away from him and into the kitchen, leaving the bible on the island countertop that separated it from the rest of the apartment.

Rufus regarded his friend with a sense of concern. He ignored the first three wisecracks that popped into his mind. JJ was all bent out of shape and even Rufus wouldn't stoop to pinging off him when he was low. Rufus stifled the mirth and walked over to the countertop and leant across it. 'Seriously JJ, you're reading the Bible?'

JJ nodded. 'Want to test me on it?'

Rufus gave a short barking laugh which he curtailed, at another sign of distress from his friend. He shook his head. 'JJ I love you like you I gave birth to you myself, but if you go religious on me, I'm gonna get a new place.'

JJ frowned and leaned against the sink.

Rufus shook his head again. 'I can't believe you've gone so nuts over some chick. Please tell me this is all just about getting laid.'

JJ said nothing.

Thoughts bubbled up inside Rufus's head, but JJ looked so damn stricken. He sighed. 'Man you got it bad.' He picked up the Bible again. 'I mean, seriously bad.'

JJ looked forlornly at him. Rufus robotically picked up the Bible and flipped open a page. 'I can't believe I'm doing this' he said to himself, but to JJ he said. 'Ok, give me something from…' he flipped the pages and stuck his finger onto a random spot. 'err…this bit here. Ezekiel 7:25'

'I don't know that one yet.'

Rufus's eyes traversed the passage and he quickly flipped the pages. 'Yeah, let's do a different one.'

---

The sets had been dismantled from the stage and were stacked in piles of tubes and flats on the stage itself. The audience seating was being slowly removed from the rear, leaving just the front few rows. Moving men were boxing up the lighting rig for shipping and electricians were stripping the cable from the overhead rigging before it too was disassembled.

Vicky watched the buzzing ants devouring the carcass of the show with equanimity. She didn't feel anything. She didn't feel. She wondered if death was like this. Not pain, just the absence of feeling.

Ronny crept quietly up beside her and out an arm around her shoulders. It was the first time he had ever touched her. She didn't even flinch. He sighed. 'Fucking bastards.'

Vicky had to concur. 'They sure didn't waste any time.'

Ronny turned his back on the destruction with a sense of finality, as if he had chosen that moment to end that part of his life. It seemed to calm him. 'They've paid me out, so I am free to go anytime. I'm only here because…'

He was speaking to the floor, not raising his eyes to her. Vicky looked at him as if for the first time. Ronny was a kindly man. He had never belittled her for her inexperience when she first started. He had always striven to help her. He was, she realized, a _friend_. Vicky impulsively kissed him on the cheek. Ronny blushed a deep red.

He finally looked up at her. 'I'm gonna miss you Vicky.'

'I'm going to miss you too Ronny.'

He smiled at her. 'So do you have anything lined up? I'm taking up a cable job in Milwaukee. Me and the kids will move out there. It's just local TV, but it's better than these nutjobs.'

Vicky looked past him to the skeleton of the stage. 'I am waiting for the Lord to guide me.'

Ronny masked a scowl and hugged her. 'My mobile number is gonna stay the same, so if you need anything…' he trailed away and looked into her face. She was beatific, sure in the certainty that somehow God would provide. He hoped that she wouldn't wait too long for Him to get His ass in gear.

'Remember Vicky, the Lord helps those who help'emselves. You take care of yourself now, y'hear?' He gave her a final squeeze and left her standing at the back of the studios while the world was dismantled and packed away about her.

---

The voice quality on the line was crystal clear. Josiah could hear the grunting and murmurings of the Board relayed to him with nuance, thanks to the wonders of high end teleconferencing. The Ministry was truly with-the-times and a good percentage of revenues, or donations as some liked to call them, helped keep the Ministry supplied with cutting edge technological means to Serve the Lord.

In this instance, serving the Lord amounted to cutting costs and His wrath, or at least His wrath as personified by the Board, was a terrible thing to behold.

"How much is she costing us?' snapped one irate board member.

'Please Franklin.' said the Chairman, soothingly. 'This isn't Josiah's fault. These were the terms of the deal'

Josiah breathed a muted sigh of relief, suddenly fearful that the fidelity of the conference unit on his desk would betray him.

'Well, find something for her to do then. Can we move her down to Atlanta?' asked another member.

Josiah cleared his throat. 'Not unless she wants to go, sir. It's ah, also part of the deal.'

The High Fidelity cursing rang out across the office.

'Brethren, please.' said the Chairman, politely suppressing the argument of the board members.

'Josiah, we want to thank you for doing the Lord's work in your usual effective manner, we're very pleased with the progress so far. The numbers are up, the costs are down. I think everyone here agrees with me.'

Josiah thrilled under the praise.

'Just find a way to get rid of the girl and we can close down the studio and consolidate it into one technical space for retransmission. Can you do that for me son?'

'Absolutely, sir. You can count on it.'

'I believe you Josiah, I really do. God Bless you son.'

---

Josiah found Vicky in the stage office, the small room next door to the main exit. Two computer screens were displaying graphs and a third showed a ratings spreadsheet. She was intently staring at the spreadsheet, lost in the numbers.

He knocked on the frame of the open door to get her attention. 'Ah, _Vicky_.' He said, stressing the name and smiling at its conclusion, 'how _are_ you?'

Vicky looked up from the computer screen and her eyes refocused. 'I'm fine thank you.'

Josiah invited himself into the room and took a seat. 'So I've, ah, been meaning to talk to you about your future with the station.'

Vicky said nothing, waiting.

He continued. 'You know we have a big show in Atlanta and there's an opening coming up for a senior producer, I thought maybe…'

Vicky narrowed her gaze into an expression descended from the disapproving look her mother had held in reserve for times when she was being truly annoying.

Josiah read the storm signal. It was more emotion than he had seen her show in the week since he had arrived.

'Are you going to make me move?' she asked.

Josiah felt battered by the implications of the question. She wasn't just being 'moved', she was asking if she was to be uprooted, torn from her family, borne away to a strange and alien place and an uncertain future. A kidnapping, a forcible abduction, a: he stopped, because she needed an answer. 'We can't _make_ you move' he said and relief washed over him.

'Good' said Vicky. 'Because I don't want to.'

Josiah realized his failure could only be redeemed in one way. 'Well, the board won't have you idle, so we have to find something for you to do.' Unable to provide any of his usual brilliant ideas, he looked to her, hoping for some miracle. 'Do you have any suggestions?'

Vicky looked back to her screen and followed the chart, stopping over a trough in the Audience Demographic. 'Even with the new programming, we're still weak in the younger age groups. If only we could reach them somehow.'

Josiah saw the light, a golden, radiant beam of Gods Grace. 'I see it. A children's show. Yes, an excellent idea, _Vicky._' Josiah shot up from his chair, filled with a new purpose. He stepped out into the ruined studio. 'We can use the stage, keep these front seats and put up a brand new set. We'd only need a theme and a host. Excellent.'

One of the electricians on the stage spotted Josiah and approached 'We're ready to start dismantling the overhead, so you need to move out of the…'

Josiah held a hand up. 'Do no such thing. We're going to need the rig for the new lights.'

Vicky stood up and watched Josiah gather the electrician in his arm and walk him towards the stage, chattering instructions to them as he went. He disappeared into the distance in a tornado of activity. The lights on the studio snapped on and suddenly the place was alive once more. Vicky made the sign of the cross. As she looked around the studio, the moving men were talking amongst themselves and one by one, the boxes reversed their directions.

She watched them re enter and deposit the light and cables back onto the floor of the stage. One of the moving men stopped in the doorway and looked around, uncertainly. She studied his face for a moment until he turned to look at her and they locked eyes.

It was that boy again. He gave a start, but seemed rooted to the spot, unable to move towards her.

'I thought it was a church.' he said.

'What?' Vicky said.

'Your card said Ministry. I thought it was a church.'

'It's a Ministry.' Vicky said.

JJ nodded. 'Yeah.' Then he shook his head, as if to clear it. 'What's the difference?'

'A Ministry is a pastoral service to the community. A church is a place.' Vicky explained.

He nodded. 'Right. Got it. So you work for a 'Ministry.''

He hadn't moved, but somehow he had gotten closer. Vicky realized she had walked a few steps towards him. 'This was the Reverend Thomas Marsden's Ministry. We're now part of the Evangelical Ministries Association.'

'Right.' JJ said.

'Why did you come here?' Vicky asked quietly.

'I had to see you' blurted JJ. He held a hand up over his treacherous mouth.

Josiah DeJean walked straight into the middle of their conversation. 'No slacking now, get that stuff back in here my boy. There's a lot to be done. "Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us' He said sternly.

JJ responded as if someone had released the starting gate. 'Hebrews 12:1?'

Josiah checked him up and down. 'You're not one of the movers?'

JJ shook his head. 'No, I ah, I just came by to see, because I thought it was a church and…' he stammered.

Josiah gave him an appraising eye. He was tall, thin, young and reasonably attractive in a bony sort of way. That hawkish nose: the droopy eyes. Like a young…

Josiah suddenly put an arm on JJ's shoulder and bridged the gap to Vicky, seizing her shoulder. 'Ask, and it shall be given you; seek; and you shall find; knock and it shall be opened unto you. For every one that asketh receiveth; and he that seeketh findeth; and to him that knocketh it shall be opened! My son, I think you were guided here today by a greater purpose. I think the Lord delivered this pious man to us in our time of need. Vicky, let's get a camera on our young friend here and see how it likes him.'

Josiah grinned madly at both of them, his head sweeping from side to side like a manic lighthouse. Vicky and JJ looked at each other.

'Matthew 8:7' mumbled JJ.

---

The trustee walked up the stairs to the first floor tier. The block maintained a creeping stench that couldn't be dispelled by any known cleaner. It was the smell of misery, condensed from a thousand unhappy occupants. He waited until the coast was as clear as it was going to get before going to the cell. He pushed the mop methodically along the floor, dipping it every so often into the bucket and renewing it in the dark greasy water.

As he passed the cell he stooped down to absently scratch a spot away from the floor. As he did so, he slipped a small folded piece of paper onto the ground and flicked it with the mop. It slid through the bars and into the cell. When he was gone and the guards had locked the cell blocks down, the occupant of the cell unfolded the note and read it. After a moment, he memorized the contents and popped the piece of paper into his mouth, chewed once and swallowed.

-

The first slap landed on the side of his head without any warning. The room spun and stars came out in the ceiling. Years of experience taught him to raise a hand to intercept the second hand before it struck him. 'Ma!' he yelled, dancing backwards.

'Don't you Ma me you little shit.' She screamed at him. 'You little piece of trash, you junkie.'

The young man jumped out of the way of another stinging blow. The bump he had done before he got home was still jangling his nerves so he did the unthinkable and slapped her back, hard, across the face. She fell over the soiled couch and landed heavily. He walked over and stood above her, still a little woozy, his ears ringing.

'Don't you do that again Ma. Don't you do that.' He threatened. She could see the whites of his eyes, the pupils retracted into tiny pin points. 'Don't you do that any more, you _bitch_' he said, lingering over the note of disdain in his voice.

'They're going to kill you' she said, half in terror, half angry. 'They're going to rip you up for what you did. I know.'

He stopped, suddenly feeling a pall of fear. She sensed victory and got up, wincing. 'You killed a man and they'll kill you for it.'

He fumbled suddenly in his pocket and pulled out a gun which he brandished in her face.

She held up a letter. 'He sent a letter. A _letter_. He knows what you did and he's real mad now. Oh you're gonna get it for sure now.'

The young man kept the gun on her, shaking slightly.

'All you had to do was get the pictures. That's all you had to do. Now you've got the cops involved, just like he told you not to. You did it and I'm gonna tell him, then you'll be sorry' she snarled.

The young man tensed as a small popping sound startled him. His mother had gone quiet. She was making weak noises from her throat whilst a red stain spread out across her shirt. A wisp of smoke was curling upwards from the revolver.

He put the gun back into his pocket and took the letter from her hands. She slid back down onto the floor and bled slowly.

He sat on the couch and read the letter, taking a glass pipe out of the inside of his jacket, that he kept next to the battered copy of Steppenwolf, and ran his fingers around the rim.There was enough residue to light up, so he sucked a bowl down and held the smoke in for as long as he could, until the world lit up again and he could feel the pounding of his blood in his veins.

Nothing could stop him, especially not cheap loose leaf paper with the large imprecise scrawl of an illiterate convict. 'Dear Sis.' it began.

'BeEn a Long TimE Sis...'

He began to count the capitals and cursive, quickly unlocking the code in his lightning fast mind.

'Bitch' he said aloud. 'He doesn't want me dead. He wants to meet.'

At the edges of his mind, the imminent demise of his euphoria surfaced and he knew he was going to have to score.

He walked over to the body and started to rifle through her pockets.


	14. Chapter 13

The markets were housed in the old school grounds and stalls ran from one end of the grounds to the chain mesh fencing that kept the kids in and the world out. The market was broken up into islands of commerce; the regulars trotted out light tube frames and canvas sides and formed up in a little roman turtle shape with an avenue of purchase down the centre. The folks selling plants were massed in a hastily assembled jungle at the far end of the markets. Fashion, second hand mostly, in the middle; Knick knacks, gifts and foods along the two opposite sides.

Phil had shifted boxes of fruit to form his own produce fort. Lord help him if he sold the boxes he was using to prop up the plank countertop. He gave Charlie a wave as he caught her watching him. He was interrupted by another customer and she turned her attentions back to finding a new set of overalls. Worn off-casts from generations of farmers wouldn't do. She knew she would have to ask for the special stock of fresh pressed denim that the storekeeper hid in the back of her van. Alice, the stall holder, sensed her thoughts.

'Hey Charlie' she called out. 'You need more art duds?'

Charlie smiled and put the depressing second hand items back onto the pile. 'MM-hmm.' She said. Alice waved to her to come over, so she followed the short brown-haired woman to the back of the stall. Alice was running a finger down a stack of boxes, locating the right size. 'You must be busy. This is the third pair this year.' she said over her shoulder.

'I got some new metal and it's taking some getting used to. Kinda burned the last pair up a bit.' Charlie confessed. Alice found a thick blue set of overalls and hauled them stiffly out of their box. 'There. These ought to do ya Hon.'

Charlie took the overalls and held them against her side.

Marjorie eyed her enviously. 'Those'll fit fine. All that sculpting is giving you a great figure.'

Charlie grinned. 'It burns it right off.'

She checked herself in the mirror and as an added luxury, selected several pairs of thick socks. She opened her purse and withdrew a few bills, but Alice waved them away. 'I owe Phil for vegetables anyways.'

Charlie held the money out, insistently. 'Take it Alice. I sold a piece recently.'

Alice beamed and pounced on the money. 'That's great news. How's that darling girl of yours?'

'She's great.' Charlie was able to reply honestly. 'She's living in town.'

The two women fell into a steady stream of information swapping. Alice took advantage of Charlie's unusual gregariousness to fill her in on the exploits of each of her relatives, living and dead, until Charlie almost wished she'd gone to Wal-Mart.

When she could make her escape, she gave Alice a hug goodbye, slung the socks and overalls into her recycled carry bag and walked back through the thinning crowd to Phil's stall.

Phil was elsewhere, probably gathering more boxes to even up the slanting countertop, missing its stabilizing first row of fruit. She looked around, putting a hand to her brow to shield her eyes from the sun, but there was still no sign of him. She shrugged and scrumped an apple from the top box. He could fill it up later.

She was still in the grounds of the school when she felt a presence at her elbow. Erles was wearing a ridiculously large sombrero and shuffling after her as fast as his little legs could carry him. 'Charlie, darling. I thought I might find you here'

Charlie rolled her eyes at the expression. 'Darling? Have you been hanging out with your society friends again, Erles?'

Erles sniffed. 'A little culture may have clung to my garments.' Charlie laughed.

'Good.' said Erles primly, taking her arm. 'You and I shall have lunch.'

---

Erles picked the least objectionable café within walking distance and forced Charlie into a seat and accepting a plastic covered menu with some disdain from the cheerful young waitress. He glanced at it. 'I'll have a water.'

'I'll have a cheeseburger, please' said Charlie.

The waitress smiled and took the menus away, withdrawing past Charlie to shield herself tom Erles baleful eye.

'A single hat, that's all I ask. Just one eatery with one lousy hat. Is that too much to ask?' He complained.

Charlie shook her head in amusement. 'You are fussier than my cat.'

'No doubt a purebred.' Erles replied, pleased at the comparison.

The waitress deposited two glasses of water on the table and retreated. Charlie took a sip

'Let's talk about your photo shoot.'

Charlie coughed her water out her nose. 'What photo shoot?' she demanded.

Erles looked nonchalant. 'We'll need at least a day in the studio with some of your works and a nice shot for the profile; we can do one in front of the signage for the gallery. That will work nicely.'

'What photo shoot, Erles?' Charlie said, clenching her glass.

'Charlie, really. It's a simple necessity. When the article comes out, we want to present you in the most saleable fashion. Hmm. Maybe we can ask Albert, he does excellent..'

Charlie poured some of her water into his lap. Erles submitted to this humiliation with grace and dignity. He took a wad of tissue from the serviette dispenser and mopped his lap. 'Despite having the impulse control of a small child, you are still my best artist and you're having a photo shoot. Ah! No buts!' he said, raising a damp hand to silence Charlie's immediate protest.

'No.' she said, resolutely.

'Yes.' Erles riposted.

Charlie shook her head. 'No.'

'Yes!' Erles said, raising his voice slightly.

'No!' Charlie shot back, raising her voice even more.

'Pipe Down!' yelled one of the other patrons.

'Shut up' yelled Charlie and Erles simultaneously in reply.

The diner became very quiet.

Charlie and Erles turned to face off against one another again.

'Erles, I told you that I won't do anything that draws attention to…'

'Rubbish.' snapped Erles. 'Your work demands attention. You're a fool to think otherwise.'

Charlie shot him back an angry glare. Erles sighed and leaned closer to her, ignoring the wet fabric of his pants clinging to him. 'You can't stay in the shadows forever. Even if you want to. What you do, these things you express in metal, are unique. It's a gift too rare to let wither in some backwater shed.'

Charlie's emotions alternated between anger and a strange feeling of happiness. Maybe she was only happy when she was angry.

Erles grasped her hand. 'I've played the best cards I can to set this up Charlie, because I believe in your talent. If you want to walk away, so be it, but I will not let the chance for you to get some real attention slip away, willingly. It's time to face up to what you are.'

Charlie stared him down. 'And what exactly _is _that?'

Erles released her hand and sat back across the table. 'An artist, my dear. An artist.'

-

When the strange couple had left, the waitress cleared the table of the half eaten cheeseburger and empty glasses. She stacked them onto her tray and spied a lone piece of cutlery lying on the plastic cushion of the booth. She bent over to retrieve it and found it stuck fast. She gave a good haul on the end of the fork and it ripped free from the cushion, bringing with it a lunch chunk of bubbled foam. The fork was twisted beyond recognition from the tines down to mid way along the neck, where it resumed its regular shape. The whole thing had melted into the cushion and fused with the polyethylene without so much as a black mark. It was the queerest thing.

She put the hunk of fork and cushion on the tray as well and absently patted her pocket, where the comforting large tip they had left suddenly made sense.

---

The man waiting in Luka's office was doing it specifically to piss him off. He had taken up a guard position on a chair turned at ninety degrees from the table. He was even wearing those stupid dark glasses they seemed to get in every G-Man starter kit. Luka saw him through the glass window, but wasn't quick enough in turning around. The agent jumped up and called him to a stop before he'd reached the intersection of the corridor and the lift well.

'Sergeant Wachowski?'

Luka stopped and turned around to face the man. The agent had a jaw like a concrete bollard. 'Can we do this some other time Agent… ?'

'_Special_ Agent Westacott.' The man finished for him. 'And no we can not do this some other time Sergeant. We can do this here, or anywhere in DC you like.'

Luka considered dropping his coffee and running for the street. Instead, he took a long, slow sip from his takeaway coffee cup.

The agent stood impassively. 'Are you finished?'

Luka sized the man up. 'Hell no. You're going to have to make nice or go see my Boss and get _him_ to threaten me. He's scary. You, not so much.'

'What happened to all that country courtesy we hear about?' asked the Agent.

This had the intended effect of making Luka smile. The Agent reached out a hand. 'No more Johnson measuring contests, I'll agree we're both bad ass, ok? My names Jake Westacott.'

Luka took his hand, but only after a pause. 'Luka Wachowski. So why are you here?'

Westacott looked around the corridor. 'Do we have to do this here?'

'Sure' said Luka. 'Why not. You've already been through my files. What else do you need?'

Westacott frowned. 'This isn't going as I planned.'

'No, I don't suppose it is. Why don't you tell me how it was meant to go? You come down, rattle a federal warrant and tell me to back off whatever it is I'm doing?'

'You've done this before.' Westacott said, thoughtfully.

Luka nodded again. 'Yeppers. But why come all the way down here? You coulda been just as nice over the phone.'

'Because you were _there_.' Westacott said, simply.

This stopped Luka in his tracks. 'What's that supposed to mean?' he asked, his anger draining away _(guns flash, there are flames, the smoke is billowing). _

'Are you ok?'

Luka found his eyes refocusing on the thin agent. 'Yeah I'm fine. A lot of people asking me that recently.' _(flames are burning, the smell is)_

Luka's gorge rose and he gulped, going a pale, unwholesome shade. He nodded to the agent and ran for the bathroom, pushing past a beat cop to spill the contents of his throat over the sides of the clean white ceramic bowl. Luka gave up all thoughts of posturing and settled onto his knees, gripping the sides of the toilet and steadying himself until the waves of nausea had wrung every last drop of liquid from his insides and left him dry heaving.

Westacott waited by the bathroom sinks until Luka gathered himself up.

He ignored Westacott and ran the taps on the sink until it was half full and then plunged his face into it. He gargled the last of the nastiness out of his mouth and turned to face Westacott, giving him a wild eyed grin. 'Is this what you expected?'

Westacott looked at the floor for a while; he spoke quietly. 'It's a sore point for the Bureau. You knew you were tripping alarms when you went digging in the system. Anyone else would have been given a quick warning or had their chain pulled, top on down, but….I've read your file.'

Luka spat out an ill tasting cache from behind his gums and rinsed. 'Yeah. I was there. So was the rest of the county; your folks, FBI, even the National fucking Guard. What of it?'

'You would have been young.' Westacott said gently.

Luka shook his head in amazement. 'Don't try and shrink my head, ok? Bad deal, lost a few friends, move on, right? Shit.' Luka stared out into space. 'I haven't thought about this crap in years.'

'Why now?' asked Westacott. 'Why are you digging?'

'Why are you asking?' Luka shot back.

Westacott got up from his position against the door frame. 'This is getting us nowhere. Why don't you just answer my questions and I can leave you to your post traumatic stress?'

'Fuck you.' Luka said, his eyes flashing.

Westacotts' eyes narrowed. 'You've used up all your sympathy slack, _Sergeant_. What's your interest in the Faithful?'

Luka looked puzzled. 'What?'

Westacott's eye flickered for a moment and he quickly changed tack. 'Why are you reviewing the Keepers Hill files?'

Luka sensed a slip, but he was coming back to his senses. He allowed himself to be redirected away from the factoid and filed it away. The Faithful were dead. They were all dead.

'I'm looking for a connection to a homicide.' he answered, carefully.

'What does your homicide have to do with events from twenty years ago?'

Luka felt that he was on dangerous ground. He was unwilling to be the poorer cousin in information exchange. 'My turn. Why come all the way down here.'

Westacott looked trapped. 'Well. Come on.' Luka said impatiently.

'I can't tell you that.' Westacott said finally, before countering; 'What homicide?'

'The Jackson murder.'

Westacott raised an eyebrow. 'An ex-con gets murdered and you go setting off domestic terrorism watch lists?'

Luka kept his face even. This guy was too well informed. Luka realized he was instinctively keeping the simple explanation quiet. The link that would make the Agent sit up and take notice, and stop him from staring at him like he was out of his mind. Jackson's last delivery; Charlie.

Westacott had his arms folded in front of him. 'You're a mess. You're also trawling old grounds with no good damn reason. Stop that.' He said, coming to rest at the sink beside Luka.

'We keep an eye on anyone following up on Keepers Hill; if you've got any information that we haven't received, I want you to share it with us and then leave it alone.' He waited for Luka to say something.

'I didn't think so. Let this one drop Luka, it's bad for your digestion' He stood and straightened his jacket. 'Nice meeting you.' he finished and opened the door to leave. Luka watched him walk away, his mind running feverishly. None of this made any sense. Then it clicked. 'You've got one of them; Alive.' He said softly.

Westacott stopped at the door and turned around slowly.

Luka sensed victory, along with a strange feeling of…hope?

'That's why you're down here. You thought I knew about it. Way to confirm it, thanks.'

Westacott frowned, caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 'This is highly classified.'

Luka snorted. 'We're not the CIA.'

'True, but this is still classified.'

Luka rose from the sink. 'Who is it?' he demanded.

Westacott shook his head. 'You wanted to know why I'm down here? Because of this' he said, gesturing to the trail of illness leading from the toilet bowl to the sink. 'Are you planning a little revenge Luka? Are you getting ready to finish the job you started at Keepers Hill?'

Luka was too astonished to react to the insult. 'Alive.' He repeated over and over in his mind. 'Gee, thanks Special Agent, I think you've helped move my investigation forward.'

Westacott quickly retraced his steps from the doorway. 'Jesus Christ, weren't you listening? Leave it _alone_.'

A small, round face from an officer needing to use the facilities appeared at the doorway. 'Get out of here' snapped Westacott.

Luka waved a hand. 'Come on in Stan, Special Agent Westacott was just leaving.'

Stan gave a grateful smile and bolted for the urinal. Westacott closed until he was face to face with Luka. Luka gave him the benefit of his acrid breath.

'I can have you pulled out for psych reasons.' Westacott warned.

Luka nodded. 'Go ahead. I could do with some fishing time at the county's expense. I know a little place out in the hills.'

Westacott purpled with rage.

Luka smiled. 'This really isn't going how you planned, is it?'

---

The Parole Board was all seated in a line along the far wall of the room. The meeting room was at the edge of the inner set of barriers, luxurious in its window frontage. Even though the windows were slatted with heavy steel blinds and the glass strong enough to take a bullet, it was tantalizingly close to the outside world. The board used this sniff of freedom as a carrot. The blinds were left open or closed at their discretion, depending on the impact they sought on the parole applicant.

Today, they were wide open. Only the steel slats prevented a determined man from a dash to the perimeter fence and beyond.

The applicant was seated on a chair well back from the parole board. He was still cuffed and manacled. His grey hair had been neatly clipped and his collar was buttoned high. He held himself calmly and serenely and smiled at the Board.

Betty Penrose, head of the committee, hated the way he looked at her. She had faced many angry, violent applicants, but the strange calm of this long term inmate was unsettling. She repeatedly shuffled the papers in front of her, looking for an alternative to the present decision.

'It's not often that I am as reluctant to perform my duties as in this case.' She said at last. 'Despite my misgivings, the majority of the board has seen fit to recommend the prisoner's application to be passed to the next round.' She put her glasses down on the table and rubbed her eyes. 'This is not a guarantee of parole. This is an opportunity for you to continue to show your progress towards rehabilitation.'

The prisoner nodded and smiled. Betty shivered inwardly, picking up her glasses and chewing distractedly on a stem. 'That's all for today.' She finished and looked to the guard, who was waiting expectantly for a signal. The guard swiftly moved in to unlock the prisoner from the chair and help him to his feet. They shuffled in a slow dance to the door and buzzed for exit.

When the room was empty, Betty looked at the other members of the board. 'Are we _sure_ we want to let this one out into the community again?'


	15. Chapter 14

The thin faced young man stared in amazement at everything. He had worn the same wide eyed expression from the moment he was bundled out of the consulate provided black van and into the airport, still bleary eyed from lack of sleep. He had chattered excitedly with Father Minuto until the priest explained that his 'Uncle' had come to take him home to his 'American' family. That brought tears to the boy's eyes and he enthusiastically pumped the American's hand, over and over, saying 'Maraming salamat po'. The American tried as gently but firmly as he could to get the boy to release his hands, pulling them away quickly and covertly checking them for any signs of…

Just before they passed into the boarding area, the Priest grabbed him on the shoulder and held him. 'You are going to take good care of him, yes?'

The American nodded. 'He'll be looked after, properly, by people who can help.'

Father Minuto sent a pulse of strength down his wizened arm and squeezed the shoulder even more tightly. The American winced.

'You be truthful now, or I'll call up His Holiness and make big trouble for you, you betcha.'

The American put his hand over the Priests claw like fingers. 'Please, Father, stop kicking my ass. The boy will be safe.'

The Priest narrowed his gaze and checked every feature of the American's face. Finding no lie, he released his hand.

The American rubbed at his sore shoulder. 'You're awful touchy for a priest.' He muttered. This drew a poke in the side. The American started thinking about the pistol in his shoulder holster, and then thought better of it.

'You just take good care of him. Now, you get a blessing.' The priest finished, stood back and delivered a benediction.

---

Two flights and a van ride later, the boy was still staring again at the huge world he had landed in, with its enormous cars and constant concrete. You could feel the breadth of the land here. Nothing ended quickly. The freeways just rolled on in very direction, buildings occupied villages' worth of space. He was in _America_.

His Uncle didn't speak Tagalog and Felipe pretended he didn't speak English.

His Grandfather had chastised him with a switch to improve his English. 'One day,' Grandfather had said. 'They will come looking for you. You gotta know how to talk to'em proper, these muckety mucks. Yes sir, no sir, that's what I told'em. Volunteered I did, and this is how they repay me. No, you never tell'em what you're thinking boy, it's what keeps you alive. You just learn how to speak proper so you kin understand them, know what they're doin'

Felipe was fond of the grouchy old man, a distant figure in his past who had swooped down into the village one day when he was performing the blessed miracles and taken him back to Manila. Grandfather had cried when he found him and hugged him tightly to his chest, knowing him for his own. Felipe had smelled the scent of hair oil and old spice and felt a growing shadow within the old man. He longed to tell Grandfather, he could have helped him to remove the shadow, but Grandfather would have none of it. 'When it's time to go, it's time to go my boy, an' I know when it's time to go. You'll know too.'

Grandfather had been right, his family _had_ come for him and now he was to live amongst these Titans. He hoped he would prove worthy.

---

The Director was garbed in a white lab coat. She had a pair of oversized glasses and a clipboard. For a moment, it was a flashback to her undergrad days, only missing the constant pawing at her ass from the tutor. Her lab was much more Martha than Beaker. The whole floor had been opened up and laid out like a junior high lab, plenty of light and views of the trees surrounding the building.

The young man sat on a consulting table and accepted her check-up with a cheerful smile. She smiled back and him and put the clipboard down. 'Well, he's physically fine.'

The American was comfortingly close, resting on a countertop beneath a window. 'Great.' He said, unconvincingly.

The Director turned around and peered over the top of her glasses at him.

'What's _your_ problem Steve?'

The American rubbed his sore carcass. 'I got assaulted by a man of the cloth.'

The Director laughed. Felipe laughed as well. The Director turned back to him. 'I thought he didn't speak English?'

The American straightened up a little. 'Well no one told me he didn't; he just hasn't.'

The Director gave Felipe a knowing grin. 'You're quite a little rascal, aren't you?'

Felipe grinned in reply. 'Yes, I am a little rascal.'

The American looked gob smacked.

'Steve, you totally suck as an agent.' said the Director.

'Hey!' said the American. 'Don't be so damn fussy with the details. Mission accomplished, yeah?'

The Director gave Felipe another grin, stood up and tousled his hair. 'I'm only teasing, Steve. All right Felipe, let's start this again. I'm your Aunt Kathy and this is your Uncle Steve. Welcome home.'

Not knowing what else to do, Felipe lunged forward and hugged her. The Director looked down at the young man and smiled, dismissing Steve, who had jumped to his feet. 'It's ok' she said. Steve gestured with his thumb, indicating that she should disentangle herself, shaking his head in warning. 'You _don't_ want to be that close Kath…I mean, Director.'

The Director ignored him. 'Don't sweat the small stuff Steve.'

Steve shook his head again. 'This ain't small stuff.' He prised Felipe away from her and sat him back down on the bench. 'Now Felipe, I want you to tell Aunt Katy about the Miracles.'

---

Yiam was on shift when the Director entered the green room. "Hello Ma'am' she offered in greeting. The Director's lips were pursed. 'Hi Yiam. Are you busy?'

Yiam shook her head quickly, hoping to be of assistance. 'Not busy. I can help?'

The Director sat down at the control desk. 'I need to do a snapshot and an extrapolation. Who can you bring on line?'

Yiam sensed a hidden urgency in her voice. She quickly brought up the list of available servers. 'We have three processing centres open. I can create a duplicate instance and create new model.'

The Director considered this. 'Please Yiam. That's great. Bring up the line now.'

Yiam selected the overview display and the train tracks lit up around the room.

'Can you bring up the next line?'

'Which field, Director?'

'Everything.'

Yiam looked at her. 'Yes, Director, but this will take a lot of time.'

The Director nodded. 'I know Yiam. Can you give me a few minutes alone please?'

Yiam hopped up from her chair. 'Certainly.' She left the Director poring over the menu's. As she was leaving, she saw the track lines grow another increment, the lower lights burning a deep amber.

---

At her desk on the administrative level, Yiam sat down and started to eat her lunch, early. She checked through her emails and responded to a few questions from the university. A new email announced its arrival with a winged messenger symbol she had customised. It was a system administrator complaint, so she opened up the relay chat and went to the Operators channel. She logged in, set herself to invisible and messaged the offended system administrator.

Han0p: u mailed

0pi1ned: wft r u doing to the network

Han0p: srry. Boss asked for big job.

0p1ned:-( you're meant to give me some warning ffs. everythings fucking frozen.

Yiam recoiled.

Han0p:-( so srry. didnt know.

0p1ned: apols for being mad. not your fault. university email gone kaput, getting yelled at here. how long?

Yiam waited a moment before answering, unable to find a way to satisfy all parties.

0p1ned: how long???

Han0p: don't know

0p1ned!&(

Han0p:-(

The admin quit the channel and Yiam sat back from her screen, feeling a little overwhelmed. Her first days at the Institute were not progressing as smoothly as she had hoped. The people were nice enough and the social dynamics research program was a coup for her resume and future prospects. Everything had run very smoothly right up until now. She despaired that somehow she was about to ruin everything. She picked up her phone and called her mother; that would make her feel better. The home line rang for a few moments and her brother answered. 'Weiiii? He said in a mock accent that made her cringe.

'It's me. Is mom there?'

'She no home, you call back later.' He brother said cheekily.

'Don't kid around Lewis. I'm not having a good day.'

'Awww.' He said, unsympathetically. 'She's still not home. She's out at the club with Dad.'

Yiam grimaced. Her mother had been spending far too much time at the club recently. She had noticed how the housekeeping had fallen away. Even the money she sent home to help pay for Dad's medical bills seemed to evaporate before it made its way to the doctors. Yiam had started to pay them directly instead.

'Ok, tell her I called.'

'You okay sis?' her brother asked, unusually concerned. Yiam laughed. 'Just a tough day at the office.'

At the edge of her vision, she saw the Director hovering.

'Gotta go, I'll call you later' she said and quickly hung up.

'Sorry to interrupt' the Director said.

'That's ok' Yiam answered brightly, all thoughts of disaster dispelled.

'Can you get Gregory on the line? I know it's his day off, but I could do with the help.'

'Maybe I could help you instead?' Yiam suggested, loathe to incur yet more wrath from other co workers.

The Director looked her up and down as if judging her for the task. 'I'm sorry Yiam, not this time.'

Yiam was crestfallen.

'Just find Greg and ask him to come in please' the Director said and left her alone at her desk, feeling like a failure.

She logged back into the channel and posted a message.

Han0p: soz, looks like it's going to be a while

She logged off, then picked up her extension and dialled Greg's cell phone number.

---

Egads sets mode +i

/join #Admin

Now connected to #Admin

X sets mode +Egads

Egads: any1 seen 0p1?

NessunDoona: was screaming an hour ago

Egads: his bots down

NessunDoona: all botz down :-(

Egads: bummer. I was in the middle of leeching something

NessunDoona: no pr0n for you, so sad

Egads:-) theres always ure mom

Xorbitant: LOL!

AlfM00N: rofl

NessunDoona: ure so gay

Egads: whats rong w net?

Xorbitant: prolly 0p1 screwed pooch

0p1ned has joined #Admin

Egads: 0p! sup?

0p1ned: &(!

Xorbitant: See, poochified.

Xorbitant has quit (kicked by 0p1ned: im not in teh good mood)

AlfM00N: Ahahahaha

0p1ned: at least here i have some control

Egads: lost my server, what happ?

0p1ned: research program ate my network. theyre like king kong rampaging through my server farm.

Xorbitant has rejoined.

Xorbitant has quit (kicked by 0p1ned: i'm still pissed)

Egads: no way one prog ate your system

0p1ned: i kid you not. processor apocalypse.

NessunDoona: what r they running?

Egads: whens my bot server back?

0p1ned: weather sim or sumthing.

Egads: when server back???

0p1ned: patience grasshopper, when university resources return from the dark side.

Egads:-o

0p1ned:-(

AlfM00N: bigass data hog?

0p1ned: encryption doing it. #& pranoids

0p1ned/paranoid

NessunDoona: drug company patents!

AlfM00N: just rendering 3d manga pr0n like always

Egads: b interesting to see their data, can we mirror?

Xorbitant has joined #Admin

Xorbitant: did someone say mirror?

---

Around the green room, the track lights had grown limbs. They were starting to resemble tree branches. The Director watched Greg input the data and rearrange the units for display until he had three generations of lineage up on the screens.

'Ok, that's it.' He said and stopped typing.

The Director picked up the mouse and scrolled across the screens. 'Why so many blank spots?'

Greg shrugged. 'We weren't keeping that level of detail on the third generation. We only have two known active from G2 and no one was showing any red flags.'

'What about non treated partners and second generation offspring?

Greg grimaced in displeasure 'You want me to guess? With all this?' he said, waving a hand across the columns of data. The Directors face hardened.

Greg sighed and relented. 'I didn't get my Doctorate with a guess, Director, but for you..'

He tapped a few stroked and hit enter.

The screen lit up as the tree's branches blossomed with lights.

The Director looked at the tree. 'My god, we've been asleep at the wheel.'

'It's not as bad as it looks. This is the total range, including the control groups and the failed test groups.'

The Director released a breath she had been holding.

Greg grinned. 'You did say to be comprehensive. The records were less than informative in some cases, but we can still prioritise the most likely. There were only a few pairings between treated subjects.'

The Director took the chewed end of her glasses out of her mouth, folded them and put them down. 'We've got an emergence in the third generation down the paternal line.'

'Jesus!' Greg blasphemed.

'We need to increase our resolution on every partnering associated with the programme that's produced offspring. Everyone; staff, service personnel. Anyone who came near the programme.'

'You're kidding me' Greg exclaimed. 'That's just fucking nuts.'

The Director frowned. '_Everyone_, Greg.'

Greg shook his head. 'Do you know how many people that will include? This screen and a dozen more like it.'

The Director steeled herself and a memory from a cold room made her shiver. 'There are wild cards Greg.'

'What?'

'_He _told me. The first tests weren't double blind, they were just random attacks on civilians made under the cover of alcohol or drugs or handcuffs. Anyone who came near the project was a potential subject.'

Gregs jaw dropped. '_What?_'

'I didn't know until we moved _him_. He wanted to swap information for information.'

Greg shuddered, thinking of their guest two floors above them, kept in eternal chill. 'Can you take anything he says at face value?'

'Sure, why not? What's he got to gain by lying?'

Greg turned back to the screen and looked across the spiralling run of numbers. 'This is just insane.'

The Director put her hand on his shoulder. 'There's still time to put the genie back in the bottle, but we have to move now.'

Greg nodded, focusing on his task. 'This is gonna be a hell of a family reunion.'


	16. Chapter 15

The answering machine message was brief and to the point.

'Red's Bar, backroom, 8pm.' it said and hung up.

John Redman put the payphone down and stepped back to allow a couple of kids to crowd into the booth and dial their friend for pot or beer or cigarettes or some other unwholesome teenager activity. John had been calling the number for two days now and this was the first time it had rung through. They obviously only listed the meeting place at the last possible minute, to keep the great unwashed from attending.

One of the kids in the booth was eyeing him nervously and tapped his friend to keep him quiet as his conversation strayed towards the felonious.

John shook his head. 'Kids these days' he said with a laugh. The teenager gave him a you're-too-old-to-get-it look and John got the idea it was time to go.

---

The Neon sign announced the bar's opening time as 'til late'. It flickered into life at the onset of evening, when the printed placard in the window was flipped to 'Open' and the door unlocked.

The regulars had settled into booths or were chatting at the bar when a long, tall-and-tan drink of water strode into the place, took a look around, did a double take and stopped in his tracks.

Behind the bar, Esmerelda tut-tutted. Another lost soul on the highway who had wandered into a place he shouldn't have. 'Pity' she thought. 'He'd make a fabulous Heddy Lamarr, what with those high cheekbones.'

When the visitor didn't leave immediately, she thought 'Oh goodie, an explorer.' Esmerelda walked down the bar and leaned across it. 'Hey Honey', she called to him, 'Are you looking for directions?'

The man gave a resplendently white toothed, yet sheepish, grin and walked over to the bar. 'Maybe…'

Esmerelda flicked the long tresses of her wig in a coquettish fashion and batted her eyes. 'Honey, if you're lost or looking to get lost, you've found the right place. Can a girl buy you a drink?'

The man laughed. 'Sure, why not. Looks like the evenings a bust anyways.'

Esmeralda tipped him and wink and took a glass to the beer tap. 'We don't get many of your type in here' she said over her shoulder.

'Native Americans?'

She smiled back at him. 'No honey, straight men.'

The man turned a beet red. Esmeralda brought the beer over and put it on the counter top. The man started to open his wallet but she waved it away. 'Don't be silly, it's on the house. You can thank those dreamy eyes of yours.' Esmerelda furled her thick forearms together and leaned on the counter, staring into his eyes. The man took a draught from the glass and set it back down.

'Now,' she said. 'Let Auntie Esmerelda guess. You thought this was a…different kind of bar, am I right?'

The man nodded. 'It said 'Red's Bar.'

Esmerelda laughed. 'It _is_ Red's bar.' She shook her tresses. 'I'm Red.'

The man proffered a hand. 'I'm John.'

'Aren't you just' she said, taking his hand delicately in her fingertips and allowing him to shake it ever so politely. 'So what brings you to our little _establishment_?'

The man's cheek lifted upwards as if he was relating a personally embarrassing story. 'I was looking for a meeting.'

Esmerelda shrank back from him and stood up to her full height, her prominent Adams apple jerking upwards as she swallowed.

'Well' she said in a deeper, rougher tone. 'I certainly hadn't picked you for one of _them._ I thought you might have just been a tad…curious.'

He shook his head trying to explain it away. "It's all in a good cause, really.'

Esmerelda paused, not sensing any of the usual hostility she would have expected. 'More's the pity I suppose' she said, resuming her silken tone. 'They don't cotton to your kind y'know.'

The man nodded. 'Yeah, but perhaps they're a little more tolerant than I gave them credit for.' He said, looking around the room, eyes flitting across the mix of masculinity and mascara.

'Huh.' snorted Esmerelda. 'It's us who're tolerant. A paying customer is a paying customer.'

'It's gotta be more than that.'

Esmerelda gave him a curious look. 'You didn't come in here for my life story Honey.'

The man smiled. 'Stories are important. They mean something.'

Esmerelda looked into his deep, cavernous eyes. She leaned back down to rest on the bar again and sighed. 'Kinda took me a while to…find myself.' She explained. 'If you know what I mean. Even managed to father a couple'a kids back in the day.'

'You've kept your figure well' the man added.

Esmerelda saw the cheeky grin on his face and continued. 'Why thank you Honey, but that wasn't my problem. Let's just say I was a shitty father and I'm trying to be a better mother. Those _folks_ you're lookin' to meet are the price I pay for my mistakes.'

'They're protecting someone for you.' The man observed. Esmerelda's eyes widened in amazement. 'Someone _inside._'

'How'd you…'

The man smiled. 'They had to have something over you. Just stands to reason, is all.' He finished his beer and put the empty glass down on the counter. 'Good beer, thank you.' he said.

'Are you a cop or something Honey?' Esmerelda asked.

The man shook his head. 'Not a cop, maybe a 'something'.

Esmerelda took his glass and moved it to the sink. 'You need to go round the back to the parking lot and in through the blue gate. You can knock on the back door and they'll let you in; or not.'

'Thanks.' said the man, standing up. 'By the way, you do a great Maureen O'Hara.'

Esmerelda blossomed under the praise. 'Why thank you' she said and they exchanged a grin. As the man was leaving, she called out to him. 'You call Auntie Esmerelda if they play too rough now, y'hear?'

---

John Redman walked out through the car park to the rear of the bar. Night had come and the dark had blossomed with the sounds of happy critters going about their business. They sang to him of the joy of the dark and he smiled. He thought he heard the faint scratching of soft pads and bright claws at the edge of the buildings, but he dismissed it as the Blue gate loomed above his head. The rear section of the bar was in fact a separate house, butted up against the bar. It had once featured a letterbox and a picket fence. The letter box post was till visible and the fence had acquired a gap toothed grin from missing palings. Whatever garden had occupied the space between the house and the fence was now a flat patch of bare earth. The rickety porch was crowned with a single lightbulb, open to the elements, which showered the area in a bright uncomfortable light.

The windows flanking the door were boarded up tightly and professionally, at odds with the run down exterior. John couldn't see a damn thing through the boards and was reluctant to try his tread upon the whispery silver planks of the porch. He opted instead for a quick left turn away from the building and plunged into the darkness at the side of the house.

The bar had a strong border fence erected where it met the back of the old house, to try to keep the patrons on the right side of the line. The windows on the side of the rear building were equally well boarded. John cursed his luck and tried the edge of the lowest board. Under gentle pressure, the old wood of the house into which the nail had been battered, parted and allowed the nail to slip free. John wiggled the board until he could pivot it aside on the one remaining nail on the opposite corner and peered into the room. The room was empty, save for a seat by the back door, occupied by a short, thickset man. He was reading a pamphlet by the light echoed into the room through the glass panel above the door.

John scanned around the room and saw no other entrances or exits. 'Curiouser and curiouser' he said to himself and then pivoted the board back into place, pressing the nails back into the soft old wood.

The crunching sound of footsteps on gravel called his attention and he shrank back into the shadows. Two men, judging by the heavy shuffle of their feet, were assaulting the stairs in heavy, clumping steps. It creaked and groaned unhappily. A loud knock sounded out. John quickly scampered back to the window and prised the board loose once more. The short thug on the inside of the door was peering through a spy hole. He opened the door and two men walked in and delivered a crisp Nazi salute. The short man checked them up and down, and then bade them turn around as he frisked them. Finally, he stood back and returned the salute. They stepped away from the door to the centre of the room and rolled up the carpet. A trapdoor in the floor was hauled aside and the two men walked down into the old storm cellar. The short man lowered the trapdoor, replaced the swatch of carpet and returned to his seat.

John replaced the board once more and skirted the side of the house and the parking lot and re-entered the bar. Esmerelda gave him a peculiar look as he returned. 'Any of you Gals good with make up?' he asked.

---

The word was 'miscegenation.' Pronounced 'mi sejuh nAY shuhn', according to the dictionary, from the Latin 'miscere' or 'to mix' and 'genus' or 'race.'

This was starting to tax Sammy's mind and he put the pamphlet and the dictionary back down for a moment and rubbed his eyes. All he knew was that the word meant 'bad' and whatever it was, people shouldn't do it. Especially white folks. Sammy was certain of that, as he was certain of most of the things in his simple world view. Hitler was right, white's don't mix with blacks and Jews ran the world. That's why he couldn't hold down a job. That's why his liver was failing him.

When the knock came, Sammy was glad to have a reason to put the dictionary aside. He would hate anyone to think he was a stupid Aryan. Aryan's were smart, smarter than anyone else. He wasn't sure what an Aryan was, but whatever it was, he was proud to be one. Reminding himself of his racial pride, he filled his chest and answered the door. He looked up at the tall man with sleeves rolled up around forearms heavy with black tattoos. The Man stepped into the room, pushing Sammy and his outthrust chest backwards. Sammy balled up his fists to hit the intruder, but the intruder stopped, slammed his heels together and executed a perfect salute.

Sammy responded unthinkingly in kind, looking up into the mans face. His hair was pulled up in a cap, his clothes torn and slightly dirty. 'Say, I don't know you.' Sammy told him, unsure whether he was going to have to hit the man. He hoped he wouldn't have to, because the man was bigger than he was and even if he didn't look so Aryan, he looked…big!

The Man smiled at him. 'I don't know you either, friend. Are we going to have to fight about it or are you going to let a brother in?'

Sammy shook his head. 'I don't know you. I can't let you in.'

The Man struck him across the head. Sammy flinched but took the hit. 'Hey!' he complained. 'What gives?'

The man brandished a fist in his face. A smudged black outline of a shamrock on the knuckles caught his attention. 'Let me the fuck in.' the man snarled.

Sammy havered, uncertain. 'But.' he said uselessly. 'But.'

The man opened his palm, as if to smack him again. Sammy stepped back. 'Ok, ok.' He said, unsure why he was in trouble. Together they rolled the carpet back and Sammy pulled up the trapdoor. 'Ok.' he said. The man gave him a grin and descended the stairs. Sammy closed the trapdoor and pulled the carpet back across. He went and sat back at his post and picked up the pamphlet again. The words were hard, but they didn't hit him at least.

---

The stairs descended down at least ten feet below ground, raising the hairs on the back of John's neck. The only exit was guarded by a moron, but it was still the _only_ exit. The bottom of the stairway was blocked by a metal door with an eye slot. John muttered a brief invocation to the Father of Tricks and rapped at the door. The eye slot remained closed but the door swung open and John stepped into a dim cellar sporting a spot lit swastika flag on the far wall. A lone microphone stand was positioned in front of the swastika. 'Great. Nazi stand up' mused John. He nodded to the man who had opened the door and received an unwelcoming glare by way of reply. John shuffled off to the side, dodging the posts that held the ceiling up and separated the room into small cubes.

It wasn't what he would have called a good crowd for a Saturday. Eventually, someone who might have been in charge went over and tapped the mike. It squealed and he held his hands up to block out the spotlight, signalling for someone to turn down the mike input. The man was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, set off with a flair of colour by way of a blue and red checked over shirt.

'Hi, thanks for coming down tonight, my names Scott.'

Some of the gathering called out like an AA meeting. 'Hey Scott.'

'Shut the fuck up' said another, helpfully.

Scott threw his beer can at the heckler and plunged between the poles, arms milling wildly. John watched with an amused smile as Scott found a crop headed man in a leather bomber jacket and started whaling on him.

Other men rushed to break up the fight and they held the two opponents back from one another, spitting and snarling ineffectually.

'Too much fucking fight club' said the man next to him and spat on the floor. John looked him up and down and recognised him as one of the late arrivals that he had followed in. 'Gonna take care of this now.' The man said and pulled a small nickel plated pistol from the band of his pants. He cocked the gun and stepped into the middle of the room, then fired a round into the floor.

The bullet was sucked up into the dirt of the floor and the retort was only a small cracking sound, but it had the desired effect. Everybody stopped moving.

'What kind of men are you.' The gun toting whacko yelled. 'You cower in the dirt beneath a den of, of, Jesus I don't even know what.'

'Hey, if you don't like it, you can always leave bud.' said a burly man, stepping through the pack to face the gun holder.

The gun holder looked at him in a Mexican stand off kind of way. 'We were invited down here to give a talk, but why would I waste my breath on you. You're weak. Very weak.' He spat on the floor again and turned a thumb back to point at John. 'You even let the animals in from the barn.'

John's hand slid gently to the back of his waistband and closed around the haft of a long knife that pressed up against the small of his back. The last comment had made him the focus of everyone's attention. Nothing like an external racial threat to unify the people. John grinned.

'Aw shit' he said as the cellar-full of Nazis turned to stare at him.

---

John winced as the antiseptic took a bite out of his wound.

'Sorry' said the intern, kindly. 'But you're gonna have to hold still while I do this, or I'm gonna staple your eye shut.'

John tried to smile but it hurt too much and the intern snapped at him. 'No smilin' neither. You just hold it all still till all this is done.'

The curtains rustled aside and a small brown skinned woman holding a clipboard stuck her head through. 'Ah.' She said. 'There you are. A very good job Millie, he will look beautiful in no time at all.'

Millie chortled. 'Dr, this one ain't going to look so good for a few days.'

The Doctor nodded. 'Yes, you and your friends have had a very busy night. What an interesting story you have to tell, yes? Ah no, no smiling, or moving.'

John held himself as still as he could.

'What's happening to the other guy, he gone awful quiet' Millie said, finishing the stapling with a solid click. John felt the staples push into his cheek and he curled his fingernails into his palm at the sound, even though he felt little pain from the wound, it was just that _sound_.

'He is unconscious and his bottom will be very sore for quite some time. How unusual for a wild dog to attack so close to the city! He must be very unlucky.' The Doctor said thoughtfully. John smiled. Millie held up his arm and swabbed at it with an alcohol wipe, it came away black and she peered at him. 'You got some stuff on your arm.'

'Mascara' John confessed.

Millie gave him a knowing smile but said nothing and continued to swab out the abrasions. 'You still got some gravel in this, hold still.'

The Doctor watched Millie and guided her movements, coaching her as she completed the clean up. When she was done, John sat back on the bed looking a sight. His face was swelling up around the tear on his cheek and his knuckles were stinging from the antiseptic.

Esmerelda stuck her head in between the curtains. 'You Ok Hon?'

'He's fine, he will be out in just a minute, you wait outside please' admonished the Doctor. Esmerelda scowled but withdrew.

Millie raised an eyebrow.

'My Aunt Esmerelda' John explained.

'Millie could you give us a moment please' asked the Doctor. Millie stood up and pushed the curtains back. 'Thank you' John mouthed to her as she left. She smiled in reply and returned to her rounds.

'Now Mr Redman, we have a small problem.' The Doctor said, looking him squarely in the eye.

John tried to smile but winced instead. 'Sorry Doc?'

The Doctor tapped the end of her pen against the clipboard. 'I am concerned by the state of you and your friends and I should really be calling the police to report this.'

John shook his head. 'We'd rather you didn't'

'I could see that. The wounds on two of your friends were not deep, but they appear to have been caused by something long and sharp.'

'A piece of glass on the parking lot, there was a lot of commotion when the dog attacked. It took a few of us wrestling to get it off. We kinda rolled around a bit.'

The Doctor frowned. 'Mmm hmmm.' she said, making it plain that she wasn't buying the story. 'And the dog bites?'

John grinned in spite of himself and paid the price with another wince of pain. 'Who can say?'

The Doctor stopped tapping. 'Maybe you are running a dog fighting game with your friends.'

He shook his head. 'Uh uh. I don't do that sort of thing. Like I said, these guys were in the parking lot, something came out of the darkness and they called for help.'

She gave a short laugh. 'You might try telling me a story I believe.'

He shook his head. 'My story's too long for a short stay, and I think even you would find it a little far fetched.'

The Doctor put her clipboard down. 'Mr Redman, my family have been in medicine a long time, even before we came to America. My dear father was a small town doctor for many years and he used to tell me such. So even if you don't amaze me, how about making me feel like I'm not releasing the victims or perpetrators of a…' she looked to the mascara swastika imprint on an alcohol wipe. 'a hate crime.'

'Swap ya.' he offered.

'What?' the Doctor shot back, incredulously.

'Simple' he explained. 'You tell _me_ a story and I'll give you the truth.'

The Doctor shook her head in disbelief. 'Are you high as well?' She consulted her charts. 'not according to this anyway. Mr Redman, I am giving you one final chance to convince me that this isn't worthy of police involvement, and only because your tattoo's, unlike your friends, seem to be temporary. That's what giving you the benefit of the doubt. So if you're a reporter or something, you need to tell me now, or I'll be on the phone to the Sheriffs department before you're discharged.'

'Ok ok' John said, surrendering. 'I'm working on a… follow up to a Rolling Stone article. It led me to a bunch of neo Nazi's in a cellar behind a bar. We had a brief disagreement over public admission, which they offered to take out to the car park and resolve by planting my head in the gravel.'

"Mm hmm.' said the Doctor, sensing at last something approaching the truth. 'And the dog bites? Which I might add, you seem remarkably free of?'

John grinned, ignoring the stretching of his cheek. 'That was none of my doing. Just seemed to come out of nowhere when I was on the ground'

'Don't look so pleased with yourself, it will stretch the staple.' The Doctor said quickly. When he said no more, she sighed and signed the chart. 'Well, it may be a little far fetched but I like it better. That was no dog, I might add, that was something a little wilder.'

'A coyote?' John ventured.

The Doctor frowned at him again. You're remarkably well informed for someone who was on the ground.'

'It's a totem animal of mine.'

'Ah.' said the Doctor. "I see. Well. If this was a racially motivated assault, I still need to report it.'

"Please Doc; I'm not finished with my…investigation. Getting the police involved would really slow me down.'

'What's the article about?'

John blinked. 'Huh?'

'I'm curious now. What story are you following that's worth all this trouble?'

John felt a siren call from somewhere beyond the curtains. The scent of prey once again filled his nose. 'One day, a man who was standing in a prison yard burst into flames; bright yellow flames that ate the hair on his head. He never fell down, he just stood there and burned until the ashes from his uniform fell around him in a grey pile and his body became charcoal. No one was near him. No accelerant was found on the body. He just burned to death in full view of the inmates and guards.'

The Doctor breathed in quickly. 'Spontaneous human combustion? That's nonsense. There's always a source of flame and some transmitting flammable object; sometimes the body's fat is used like a candle, they call it wicking. Still, you have quite the turn of phrase Mr Redman. I would enjoy reading your article when it is done.'

'Be my pleasure.'

The Doctor turned to leave and pushed at the curtain.

"Doc.' He called. 'You never swapped me a story.'

The Doctor gave him an annoyed purse of her lips, but let the curtain drop back. "I can't believe I am doing this' she muttered. 'Do people often just tell you these things?'

John nodded. 'Seems to be the way. You can remain a 'confidential source' if you like.'

The Doctor shrugged. 'I'm not going to break my oath, but I'll give you a story my father once told me, a fairy tale, about the strangest appointment with a patient.'

John stared into her eyes, feeling the years peel away. 'Go on.' he said.


	17. chapter 16

'Closer, closer' urged Josiah.

Ronnie left the zoom handle untouched and told him to Shut The Hell Up, and not quietly either. He was here for one reason only: Vicki.

Josiah remained uncharacteristically silent, concentrating on the young man on camera. JJ was sweating profusely, so much so that Vicki was fighting a losing battle to replace the Foundation as it caked and cracked around his temples. She swatted at it repeatedly until a whistle from the Ronnie brought her back out frame.

JJ licked his lips nervously, his eyes switching between the two floor cameras and Vicki. She stood with her clipboard perched in the crook of her arm just outside the visible area that made up the frame.

'What do I _say_?' he implored.

'Just read from the screen in front of you.' Ronnie called back. "Jesus, you brought me back for _this?' _he muttered to Vicki underneath his breath. She gave him a warning look and he retreated to the safety of the viewfinder.

Vicki walked to the edge of frame and tried to comfort JJ.

'Let the lord put the words into your heart,' she said. JJ breathed in a gulp of warm air that seemed to flow from her lips in a waterfall, drowning the butterflies.

'On in 5, 4..' Ronne switched to hand signals as he counted down the last few seconds. The Cyclops red eye of Camera One blinked into life.

JJ sat quietly, smiling.

After a few moments, Ronnie took his eye away from the eyepiece of the camera and nudged Josiah. 'Is he gonna say something or what?' he whispered.

Josiah shushed him with a nudge and they waited.

The studio mikes picked up the quiet hum of electrical equipment and a soft buzz from the lights.

JJ's breaths were slow and rhythmic. He looked straight into the camera, eyes open, mouth closed. The minutes ticked by as they stood poised, as if waiting for something momentous to occur. When the clock had counted down to the last minute of the half hour broadcast, Ronnie readied the graphics, shaking his head. He held up a hand to indicate the run out time and JJ spoke:

"Devotion has ten parts.' He paused. "Nine of which are found in silence."

His mouth closed and he smiled again.

The credits rolled.

Ronnie dropped his headphones and stood up from the camera, shaking his head in disgust. '29 minutes of nothing, and then you say 10 words and don't even finish the sentence. What the hell!'

JJ stood up. 'I. I'm sorry, I just, it was, I'

'Ronnie!' Vicki tried to interject. Ronnie released the pan handle and strode over to the stage. 'Come on, I'm dying to know. You said ten parts, what's the tenth?'

JJ looked left and right, paling beneath the makeup.

Josiah leapt from the studio floor up onto the stage to catch him as he slumped forward. 'Help me!' Josiah called as JJ fell into a dead faint. Ronnie rushed forward to help them both back down to the chairs at the edge of the stage. Vicki hovered around them uncertainly.

'Vicki, get some water' Ronnie said sharply. Vicki dashed over to the lone cooler filled a paper cup. Ronnie took it from her and threw it in JJ's face, splashing Josiah as well. 'Can't you see the Holy Spirit is upon him' snapped Josiah, wiping at JJ's face.

Ronnie stepped back. 'Holy Spirit, my ass. He's out cold. We need to get a Doctor or something. Vicki, call an ambulance.'

JJ's eyes fluttered and he babbled meaninglessly. 't-n-n-n-g-t-n-t'

Josiah stepped away from JJ as Vicki moved to check his pulse. She put a hand on the side of his neck and felt the artery rise, once, twice. His skin was smooth and warm, the sweat served to conduct an electric tingle up her arm. Her hand rose unbidden to stop at the edge of his thick and lustrous hair, his eyelids twitching up and down, his lips mouthing unknown words.

Ronnie pushed her aside and slapped JJ across the face. JJ's eyes shot open and he lunged for Ronnie, stopping short as Ronnie grabbed and gripped his arms.

'Whoa there!' Ronnie said gently and JJ's eyes rolled back into place. JJ realised he was holding Ronnie in a wrestling grip and released him. Ronnie however, kept a hold of him until he could march him backwards into the chair and force him back down into it.

'You better have a seat son; you're acting a little strange.'

JJ stared up into Ronnie eyes and Ronnie found himself looking into a chasm.

'The tenth part…is flight. From men.' JJ said and lapsed back into unconsciousness.

From the viewfinder, Josiah adjusted the shot until he had the three of them framed perfectly. In the shot, Ronnie stood menacingly above the slumped form of the boy and Vicki stood with her hands over her mouth. Ronnie turned to the camera and scowled. 'Cut that off _now._' he barked.

Josiah flicked the camera off button and clapped his hands.

'Perfect!'

---

Rufus opened the door with bleary eyes. 'What time is it?' he complained as JJ shuffled in.

'Sorry man, forgot my keys.'

Rufus closed the door behind him and watched his friend shamble over to the sofa and collapse.

'Jeez man, where you been? It's 2 am.'

JJ let out a moan. 'The ER.'

'Holy crap dude, what happened?' Rufus said, coming to sit on the edge of the sofa. JJ looked up miserably. 'I fainted.'

Rufus kept a straight face but his voice trembled querulously. 'You _what_?'

JJ sat up and frowned. 'I fucking fainted, right when they were filming me.'

'Bahahaha' Rufus roared with mirth and then quickly stopped up his mouth as JJ looked daggers at him. 'Shut up man, it's not funny. They had me in for observation. I had to fight to get let out AMA.'

Rufus shook his face, making a cartoon-esque noise. 'Against Moses Advice?'

JJ scowled and put his face down in the cushions. 'Leave me alone.'

'Oh no you don't' said Rufus, pulling him back upright. 'I get the whole story, Pal, I spent way more time getting acquainted with the Lord than I had planned on, so you fill your study-buddy in right now, capiche?'

JJ groaned and rolled over staring at the ceiling. 'I spent days with her man, I thought we were, I don't know, _connecting_, or something. We musta done that script a hundred times. They turned the camera on and _Pow!_ wipe-out: Total brain freeze.'

Rufus perched on the edge of the sofa, eager for the juicy details. 'Yeah, and…?'

'I forgot my lines, said some dumbass thing about Jesus and fainted right on stage.'

Silence gathered in the apartment for a moment as Rufus digested the news and struggled to keep a murderous glee well hidden. JJ wallowed in misery.

'Oh.' He said, remembering. 'They also said I started speaking in tongues.'

Rufus lost it and fell off the sofa, laughing. JJ leaned over the cushion and looked down at him. When Rufus opened his eyes and saw his serious expression, the fit of laughter was renewed. 'I'm sorry man' Rufus gasped. 'I'm trying to keep it real, but it's just too much. At least tell me you got a date or something out of it.'

The look on JJ's face was answer enough. Rufus took on a serious demeanour and climbed to his feet. 'Ok, that's it, I am calling this one.'

'What?'

'You heard me, I'm calling this one as a goner.' He slapped JJ on the shoulder. 'No chick is worth _this_, dude, for true. Right' he said, grabbing his coat. 'Get your ass up because we're going and getting you laid properly with some drunk-ass co-ed.'

JJ waved him away. 'no, I can't'

Rufus stopped putting on his coat. 'Why the fuck not?'

'Because we're filming again tomorrow.'

Rufus grunted in surprise and sat down heavily on the Sofa. 'JJ, JJ my man, what's gotten into you.'

JJ looked away from him and said nothing.

Rufus grabbed him and hauled him away from the Sofa. Ignoring JJ's protests, he heaved and hauled until they reached the doorway. 'Ok, ok' JJ relented. 'Just for a drink though.'

---

The sports bar was still in full Friday night swing and JJ obediently followed Rufus to the bar. This late at night, the singles pickings were slim, but Rufus still scanned the crowd looking for a convenient distraction.

'Arr.' He said, Piratically. 'Thar be blondes off the larboard bow matey, let us avail ourselves of this formidable ale and go out there and harpoon us a whale!'

JJ grinned. Rufus was in top form. They made their way over to the seats where three young women sat. Judging from the empty margarita pitchers on the table, Rufus's cunning navigators eye had found a prime target. Rufus made a dramatic bow. 'Good evening to thee, ladies, my good friend JJ and I have arrived on these fair shores weary with travel and the companionship of sturdy seamen and would fain take with us the memory of your sweet caresses, ere we leave these enchanted isles.'

'Say what?' drawled the first girl. Her friends giggled. Rufus plopped down onto the seat beside her. 'Can we buy you gorgeous gals a drink!' he said, giving his biggest, winning-est flash of teeth. One of the girls in the booth fluttered her eyelashes at JJ. Rufus caught the motion and motioned for JJ to sit down, bookending the girls.

'When I look into the limpid pools of your eyes, I feel as if about to drown.' Rufus crooned to his questioner. She did a double take. 'Are you boys high?'

Rufus laughed. 'No, it's just a Friday night and we haven't been out in a while.'

The girl next to JJ shook his hand. 'I'm Laura. This is Melody and that's Anna.'

'I'm JJ' he replied, shaking her hand and releasing it as quickly as possible, as if he had done something wrong. She looked at him uncertainly until Rufus swung back into action, commandeering the conversation. 'I'm Rufus, that's my good friend JJ and we play in a band.'

'Oh!' said Melody. 'Which Band?'

'Jeremiah's Clenched Fist!' Rufus said with a wink to JJ. JJ automatically did a review in his head.

"The word of the Lord came again unto me, saying, Moreover, thou son of man, take thee one stick, and write upon it, For Judah, and for the children of Israel his companions: then take another stick, and write upon it, For Joseph, the stick of Ephraim, and for all the house of Israel his companions: And join them one to another into one stick; and they shall become one in thine hand."

'Wow' said Melody. 'You wrote _that_?'

Rufus nodded. 'He writes the lyrics, I write the music.'

'Wow! That's neat' said Melody, leaning over Anna to blow toxic booze breathe into Rufus's face. Anna tried pushing her back up.

A shadow fell across the table as three local boys walked over. 'Hey.' Called the one of them. 'Hey' he called again, when Rufus failed to acknowledge the first call.

Rufus turned to face them. 'What?'

'You mind sitting with our dates?'

JJ groaned.

'Why don't you give us a few minutes to get acquainted and ask again?' Rufus said, still smiling. The largest one rushed forward and grabbed Rufus by his lapels, pulling him to his feet. 'You think you're funny?'

Rufus turned his head to the side as his nose was assailed by the spirit fumes emanating from the mans mouth. JJ stood up and called to him. 'Hey, leave him alone man.'

The man considered this, then dropped Rufus and swung a punch at JJ's face. The punch collided with side of JJ's jaw, snapping his head to the side.

JJ was unmoved. His feet remained equally spaced. His head swivelled back to the centre and he looked at his attacker.

'Come on!' yelled the man. 'Come on.'

JJ shook his head. 'I won't fight you. We didn't mean to anger you. I'm sorry.'

Rufus looked around for something heavy to pick up. The man swung again, his fist crashing into the other side of JJ's face, rocking his jaw back. The man fell forward with the momentum and sprawled past JJ. The crowd suddenly cleared from around them and the barman started out from behind the bar. JJ remained motionless, as if his head was on a pivot. Now there were two even red marks on each cheek. JJ walked over to the attacker, heaving to turn himself over and put out a hand. The man looked up from the floor at him, looking around the crowd that had drawn closer in.

When he didn't move, JJ reached down and grasped a hand. The mans friends got the idea and helped to bring him to his feet. He faced JJ, wobbling unsteadily.

'Please don't hit me again.' JJ said simply. The man reared back for another punch but a hand caught him at the shoulder. His friends were holding him back.

'Come on Rufus. It's late.' JJ said. In a daze, Rufus stepped away from the table to stand beside JJ. JJ looked at the face of one of his attackers friends. 'What's your name?'

'Sigmund.' The man replied, blankly. 'Sigmund, thank you.' JJ said and stepped into the crowd. Rufus was hot on his heals. 'That was the bravest shit I have ever seen anyone do dude, far out.' He clapped JJ on shoulder. 'Maybe this religious stuff is good for you after all.'

---

'Not the house.'

'Not the barn.'

'Not the studio.'

Erles gritted his teeth and smiled. 'Not with a fox, not in a box. I get it. Ok Charlie, you me, nude on main street, yes?'

Charlie passed through three phases of emotion: anger, nuisance and laughter. 'Fine' she said. 'I'll show you mine if you show me yours. I know you've been dying to hit on me for years, Erles.'

There was one last phase; baiting Erles. This seemed to provide the greatest release from tension she could find. Erles was feeling a little chewed up.

'It's the Barn. Interiors only, ok?' she said.

Erles breathed out a huge sigh. 'See, that wasn't so hard, now, was it? Ok. We'll do the barn next.' he got up from the counter and walked to the gallery door, opened it and whistled. Three men scurried through the doorway and began setting up a tripod.

'What..?' began Charlie, realising she had been ambushed. The camera was mounted to the tripod in pit-stop frenzy. Before Charlie had enough time to rise from the chair by the window, the shutter had clicked three times.

'Erles!' Charlie screamed. Erles stood there with an extremely self satisfied expression on his face. 'You know how long it took to get you into that position? MMh? The lighting Just-So? _I_ also am an artist! Ha!' he said defiantly.

Charlie wasn't sure whether to kill him or hug him; his all encompassing Scandinavian Chutzpah knew no bounds. A Viking of the art world, ravaging her privacy and pillaging her obscurity. The dirty rat.

He had the biggest grin on his face and the camera was still clicking. What _was_ a girl to do? She opted to settle back into the chair and drink Erles's nice tea.

A small elfin face poked around the doorway and scanned the room and then entered at Erles nod. The man straightened up immediately and strode over. 'Hi, I'm Paul.' He stopped a few feet from Charlie, waiting. Erles made a gesture suggesting she should extend a hand, which she did, meekly. Paul gave here a polite handshake and pointed to the chair recently occupied by Erles slightly wider bottom. 'Can I sit?'

'I'm sure you can.' Charlie observed. Paul waited until she smiled, indicating that it had been a joke and he sat down. 'It's a real pleasure to meet you. I saw the pieces you had in Chicago a while back, but they're quite different to your recent work.'

Charlie looked down her nose at this rather-too-well-informed man. 'I'm sorry, what pieces?'

Paul looked over to Erles, Charlies gaze followed. Erles stared back at her.

She was definitely going to kill him.

'Oh, here's my card.' Paul said and handed her a business card. Charlie looked down at it. 'American Art Journal' it read. 'Oh my' Charlie said quietly.

Paul grinned. 'Yeah. It's kinda cool working here, for instance, I get to meet _you_.'

'Oh Pshaw' Charlie said, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Erles clapped his hands. 'Ok, you can talk in the car. Let's go to the Barn.'

---

Paul stepped around the block, looking upwards. 'Take lots of photos. _Lots_ of photos.' He said to no one in particular.

The cover equipment Charlie always had to hand was strewn all over the workshop. Burnt welding rods, worn out grinding pads, burned aprons. They all conveyed the essence of a dangerous art form in the soft burnt smell that permeated the place. Erles fussed about, opening the windows to clear the air as Paul stalked around the towering column of metal flame.

'You have really got something here.' He said in open admiration. "The finish is one thing, I mean, but the _balance_.'

Charlie stepped forward. 'Some of its hollow,' she lied 'it's just a matter of figuring out the weight distribution.'

'But it looks like motion, I mean, this is ready to _burn_!' Paul said enthusiastically.

'You don't know the half of it" Charlie thought to herself. The door swung open and Phil emerged carrying a tray of lemonade and a tart. He winked at Erles. 'I brought you crazy kids some refreshments.' Erles took a piece of tart and popped it into his mouth, squealing with delight. 'The good doctor missed his calling. You ought to open a bakery with your things. You have absolutely no competition.' Phil beamed. 'It's all in the ingredients.'

Paul pulled out a notebook and scratched away at it with his pen.

'Let's leave them to talk' Erles said, nudging Phil. 'Now you two play nice.' He took Phil's arm and guided him towards the door. 'Do you have anything else you have made with your ingredients?'

Charlie waited until the reporter had finished making his notes and took a sip of the lemonade. It was tangy but not too acidic or sweet. Phil knew her tastes well.

'So where do we start?' she asked.

Paul put his notebook down and accepted a glass of lemonade. 'Hey, that's good. You guys have a little piece of the American dream out here, huh?'

'Yeah, but we want to keep it a secret.' Charlie replied.

Paul nodded. 'I got the run down from your um, what is Erles, your manager?'

Charlie thought about it for a moment. 'He's my friend.'

'Ok. Well, let's start at the beginning. How long have you been sculpting?'

They both sat down next to her workbench on two mismatched stools.

'I started when I was young, maybe fifteen or sixteen. I took Shop class instead of the girly stuff they lined up for me.'

'A tomboy eh?' Paul said, smiling.

Charlie giggled. 'Maybe, maybe it was just all the cute guys were in Shop. No, on the farm we were forever fixing machinery and I had to learn how to weld. So that's how it all started.'

'Uh huh. But you didn't start on this scale?'

'Nooo..the first things I did were really little. My mo…Cynthia, used to make arts and crafts and she encouraged me to try jewellery making.'

Inside her head a stern voice was admonishing her: 'If you can make it work small, you can make it work for you, honey.' Charlie smiled and blessed Cynthia's memory.

'Sorry, where was I?'

'Jewellery making.'

'Yes. I used to make brooches and chains and rings from old steel cutlery we bought at the markets. I guess the sculpture came out of a bit of all of it.'

'Mmm-hmm.' Said Paul, scribbling away. 'You never received any formal training?'

Charlie shook her head. 'Nope. Wasn't part of my plan.'

Paul looked up at her. 'Wow. Your eye for composition is great. Tell me about your method.'

Charlie took another sip, finishing the glass. 'Method? I don't know. I just get the materials in and figure out something to make.'

'No Sketches? No plans? What about the weight distribution you were talking about?'

Charlie shrugged. 'I just sort of see what it is in my head and then work until I get it out.'

Paul continued to scratch his notes into the pages. 'So, tell me a little about your background.'

---

Phil sliced lemons super finely and laid them over the top of the light custard. Erles watched on in fascination. He brushed a light gelatine glaze over the top of them and put it aside to cool. 'Let it rest and you can take it with you.' Phil said. Erles made a happy face. 'Thanks Erles.'

'For what?'

Phil gestured towards the door. '_You_ know. She needs a push.'

Erles agreed. 'Can't keep ones light hidden forever beneath a bushel, or some such.'

'I need to tell you something Erles, and I need you to keep it shtum, ok?'

'What?'

Phil leaned on his kitchen bench. 'Charlie might have some folks nosing around that we don't want to see. The cops, well, _a_ cop, came around here.'

'Do tell?'

'The guy who delivered the metal they're looking at right now got killed after he visited here.'

Erles laughed. 'It's a dangerous world. What's that got to do with Charlie?'

Phil shrugged. 'The cops seem to think she might be on someone's hit list or something, I don't know. The cop seemed nice enough, but no one is telling me much. But I want _you_ to know, because you help look out for her.'

'With all my Heart, Dr Rachmann. If you tell me the name of the cop, maybe I can ask a few questions.'

Phil smiled. 'Would you? She'd catch me at it, she's too damn smart, but I think you've got her number. His name's Wachowski, Luka Wachowski. I'll get his card.'

As Phil waked out of the kitchen, Erles went to the window and examined the lemon tart. The glaze had dried and gone completely clear. The tart glistened invitingly at him. 'You know, I might just try a bit before I take it home' he called out.


	18. chapter 17

The air was thick as honey and scented with the fragrances of night blooming flowers. The undernote was the softly rising gases of decomposing foliage released as the jungle and its myriad worker insects consumed the previous flowering generations.

In some places, the insects found meatier meals to digest.

The jungle quickly closed around such delicacies and reduced them to rotting canvass, rusting metal and delicately formed calcium. Eventually, the jungle reclaimed everything except for the stones; for there dwelt the Gods.

Inside the temple, a man crouched beside a stone column forming one half of a doorway. Vishnu's left face gleamed coldly in the moonlight, poised in everlasting repose at the centre of the corridor. If he had been a believer, now would have been the time to entreat the God for Victory in Battle. As his gods never ran to that lineage, he gave Vishnu a smile, closed his eyes and listened for the hunters.

His contact had been right about one thing: The local warlords still respected the temples. They would not cross the causeway over the moat, wide enough to be a river.

The Vietnamese were not as superstitious about the temple though, they _would_ cross. John Rainbird waited for them to come for him, in the dark, in the air which was crystallising as beads of water on his AK47 and dripping down his bandaged arm.

Almost ten days walking from Thailand, across the border and into the jungle to penetrate the ring. John grinned as the red memory of flames in the compound filled his mind. They had every reason to be angry, as angry as fire ants disturbed when someone trod on their nest. He had run freely through the jungle, never missing a step, never taking the wrong path. Even the death of his comrades had served him, freeing him from their clanking, noisy, western steps. He was the secret death hiding within the forest, leading his enemy into ambush, taking their lives with his Knife and praising his ancestors with their death songs. God, how he loved this.

He heard the footsteps a moment before the stone above him burst open and showered him with sand. The rounds didn't ricochet from the soft sandstone. They blew out puffs of powder that coated his face and hair, mixing with the sweat to make him appear a pale yellow ghost as he stood and returned fire. The Vietnamese Regular watched in terror as a statue detached from the wall and swung a barrel on him. He died with a prayer on his lips. The sounds of the gunfire were broken and scattered by the rock walls, alternately echoing down the corridors or escaping through the windows or missing sections of the temple. John ran to the downed solider and watched him sucking air in through holes in his chest and spraying a bright red froth of bubbles. John smiled and looked into his eyes. 'There, there' he said, soothing as he slit the mans throat. He grabbed the mans head in both hands and stared into his eyes, watching the light die away. When it was over, he looted the body for ammunition and took his few grenades. The calls of the Search Brigade were growing louder. They were sweeping the temple grounds now, in a line from east to west. East was the direction of life and west was the direction of the setting sun, and death.

John chose west.

He would meet death face to face and look into its eyes.

---

Inside the tank, the body twitched and rolled in sleep. Steam rose, despite the cooling solution and the ambient chill. Sensors around the room noted the change and released another stream of coolant into the tank, cycling the rising air for a cooler draft.

On the board in the green room, a small light flickered from green to orange and then orange again as the temperature stabilised and the occupant of the Bed registered deep REM.

---

Coyote peered at him through a crack in the wall. 'Hello John' he said. 'Little far from home aren't we?'

John grinned at him. 'I could say the same to you.'

Coyote got up from his crouch and sniffed. 'They'll be here soon. In force.'

John nodded. 'When you gotta go, you gotta go.'

Coyote's lips twitched in what John had come to know as a smile. 'I'll miss you, John Rainbird. You're fun.'

John made a mock bow, which was not easy from his position on his stomach, lying on the stone floor of the high temple. 'They have to climb these stairs first. If I get the first two, it'll leave a hole in the line and I can make for the trees.'

Coyote had assumed the tiny stature of one of the small local dogs, ancestor to the Dingo. This incarnation was female and had long drooping teats. She sat and scratched, then sauntered over and sniffed at his wounds, licking at them where the bandages had come away. 'You know you have to die, sooner or later.'

This seemed a puzzling comment. 'Are you trying to lift my spirits?' he asked.

Coyote sat on its haunches. 'You know you're not really here, don't you?'

'Huh?' John asked, seeing the outline of men emerging from the lower temple into the central courtyard and sighting down along the barrel of his rifle.

'This is an old song John; we have sung this tale, the story of the dark and the wet, the song of the jungle. Here, we will run together one last time you and I. It is a good memory.'

John nodded. 'It can't be a memory until I have survived it Coyote, so if you're not going to help, would you kindly get the fuck out of here?'

Coyote gave him one last lick. 'If you make it to the trees, we will hunt together.'

John nodded and took the safety off the AK. 'Yes, we will.'

---

Footsteps pounded through the hallway. Inside the green room, the light was flickering Orange. 'What the…?' said Carlson, dropping his book. One light was going crazy, winking in and out of red, green, and amber. He puled up the linked files and hit the speed dial on the phone. 'Get medical down to the basement, our guest is in cardiac arrest.'

By the time the director arrived, the centre had gone strangely quiet. The medical team were in the common room drinking coffee.

'What happened?' Kathy said as she burst into the room.

'The subject went into arrest.'

Kathy breathed out slowly, hopefully. 'Did he…is he…'

The medical team leader frowned. 'No, he didn't, I'm sorry to say. His heart stopped at 23:11 and restarted itself at 23:12. We didn't even have time to get into the room.'

'Goddammit' Kathy said, attracting strange looks from the medical team. 'I don't mean you guys' she explained. 'It just would have been easier if...'

The Medical Team Leader nodded. 'I'm with you on that one. Don't think it hasn't crossed my mind.' He walked closer and spoke softly. 'We're not the first to have considered it. When he arrived he had enough morphine in him to kill an elephant. _What_ is keeping this guy alive?'

The Director stayed mum, her lips pursed. The Medical Team Leader shrugged. 'Well, you did promise ground breaking research so I guess I can't complain. Oh, one more thing. I found this.' He held up a small, misshapen lump with a pointed tip.

The Director took the item, weighing it in her hands. 'What is it?'

'My best guess? It's a bullet tip. It was protruding from the chest tissue over his heart. I think it's been in there quite some time.'

The Director took the bullet and slipped it into her pocket. 'Let's keep this to ourselves, shall we?' she suggested. The Medical Team Leader acknowledged with a nod and walked back to his team.

As she walked towards the elevator, the Director heard the faint howl of some night creature and she shivered. The elevator came and she rode down to the basement, submitting herself to various PIN and Key card entry points until she reached the cool room zone. It took a few minutes to don the appropriate gear and cycle through the airlock. She wanted to see him for herself.

The Bed was mounted in the centre of the room, which seemed to be even colder than it usually was. The chill seemed to bite through the layers of clean suit. Even stranger, the occupant of the bed was awake and watching her.

Kathy took a chair and sat beside the Bed. The occupant's eyes rolled to look up at her.

'Daughter.' He said. 'How….good… of… you…to visit me.'

Kathy made a wry face. 'You had some trouble tonight.'

The occupant lay there, bobbing gently at the surface. 'Dreams,' it said, slowly.

The Director held up the bullet, encased in clear plastic bag. 'Hell of a dream.' Was he smiling? 'Are you ready to tell me about the random tests yet?'

'What about…my…proposal…' he said.

The Director brought her knees closer to her chest. 'I'm not going to do it. I'll figure it out without your help if need be. You don't seem to understand yet, we're not the same Company. This isn't an offshoot looking to revive the Program. You know that oath they make us take at Medical School? "First, do no harm."? That's us. I take that oath very fucking seriously. My task is to clean up the mess that you and your buddies made, back in the day; and it's a hell of a job. We're only starting to get the full picture now, so the answer is: No, no, a thousand times, no. No more pain, no more subterfuge, no more evil shit, Major.'

The thing in the tank gurgled. Laughter?

Kathy grew grim. 'I am going to keep trying to help you. If you'd care to assist by checking out, I'll provide the body bag, plus full military honours. Otherwise, help me to fix this thing, or sit and rot until I can find a way to put you out of your goddamn misery.' She got up and pushed the chair safely away from the edge of the tank.

As she left, she could hear the thing laughing until the cycling of the airlock drove the thick burbling sound from her ears.

---

On the perimeter of the Foundation building, the lights flicked into life and scoured the surrounding trees with bright daylight, as if a new sun had emerged from each of the buildings corners. Four men, in overlapping fields of fire, made their way along the perimeter, checking the fence for hole. One held up his hand to stop their progress as something moved within the foliage. A beam of light swung from the building and reflected back yellow in the burning eyes of a dog-like creature.

'False alarm. Just some local mutt.' The guard said into his hand radio. 'Stand down.'

The creature in the spotlight scuttled away into the underbrush and a second Guard walked over to inspect the fence. 'What was it, a wolf?'

'No, face was too pointy. Maybe a local stray.'

The guard frowned. 'Maybe. Looked a little…looked like, well, it looked like a Coyote or something.'

The second guard shook his head. 'No way. Not in this neck of the woods.'

---

Visiting hours were a rarity at a SuperMax. Most of the prisoners in the Secured Housing Unit would never receive a visitor. Any prisoner in the SHU was unlikely to have such privileges.

The prisoner had to be led to the visitor centre in B yard. He was manacled, shackled and hooded for the journey. It was questionable as to whether the hood was for the guards' protection or for his own; SuperMax residents usually exited feet-first.

Even so, a convict facing parole was expected to provide indications of a stable place to live. That and meeting with his lawyers made the hooded shuffling man an increasingly regular at B Yard, and now _he_ had a visitor, a relative who would help to organise his homecoming.

The CO's led the prisoner to the glass walled booths and chained him to a rail along the front. 'You got 30 minutes' the CO said to the lank haired young man seated on the other side of the glass. He pulled the hood away from the prisoners head and left them to talk.

'Aaron, bless you for coming' the Prisoner said, smiling beatifically.

Aaron didn't feel very blessed. He was starting to Jones again and scratching at his arms. The bus ride had been hellish, even with two stops in the toilets of diners to remedy his ills. He was running low on cash, so he got to the heart of the matter. 'Err, yeah, its great to see you Unk, like its good you're gonna be getting out and all, but I am gonna need to get some more money to get the house ready and stuff.'

'Ah yes. Money. You need it to stop the itching, I see.'

Aaron scowled at him. 'Fuck you Unk. I did what you said so you give me the damn money.'

The prisoner shook is head, ever so gently. 'But you didn't do what I said, Aaron. You did something wicked, something very wicked, didn't you?'

Aaron started to scratch even more furiously. He felt the mans eyes boring into him, making him feel hot, flushed. 'That man was a friend of ours, a member of our…flock. What happened to him was a terrible tragedy. Someone must answer for this terrible crime, someone must _atone_.' Aaron got up to leave.

"SIT DOWN!' the man thundered. Aaron sat before he realised what was happening.

'You are my flesh and blood Aaron, so I am going to make this right for you, with the people who would see you pay for your crimes. I will shoulder your burden.'

'Tha..thank you uncle.' Aaron stuttered.

'But you must never, ever disobey my instructions again, for it is not merely me you disobey, but the word of our Lord. Do you understand me, son?'

Aaron nodded furiously.

'Very good. Now, there are preparations that must be laid in, before I return, do you think you can handle these simple requests?'

Aaron gulped and nodded once more.

'Very good.' Said the Prisoner. 'We will see to your itch presently.'

---

The guard at the gate looked over his ID several times, took it back to the booth and phoned it in. Even after it had been confirmed, he stared at it for a while. Luka was about to get out of the car and give him a piece of his mind when the Guard returned and handed it back through the window. 'There you go Officer Wachowski, you just proceed up the road here to the next gate and they'll let you right into the administrative section.'

'It's Sergeant Wachowski' Luka shot back.

The guard smiled. 'Have a nice day.'

'Asshole' Luka muttered as he drove off.

In the administrative building, the Medical offices were housed at the far end, still inside the wire, but closer to the main road. The door read 'Lewis McCacky, MD'. Luka breezed through the doorway and found the good doctor bent over his table forcing a lever arch file back into place.

Lewis McCacky MD looked up as Luka entered and made a joke. 'I don't owe you any money do I?' He stepped around the table to exchange a brief and manly hug. 'What the hell are you doing here?'

'I needed some info.'

Lewis sat down in his chair, inviting Luka to sit opposite. 'Your phone not working?' He picked up a pen and did a Groucho Marx impersonation. 'I would have sent a pigeon but mine migrated?'

Luka laughed. 'Something like that. I need a favour.'

'Uh oh. No, 'hey how you doin', no wife and kids questions, just 'I need a favour?''

'Sorry.' Luka said, leaning forward. 'I didn't mean to…'

Lewis chuckled again. 'I'm only foolin'. Anything worth driving up here for's gotta be worth it. Let's talk over lunch.'

---

They both took plastic trays from the shelf and talked as they stood in line in the cafeteria. 'You got promoted yet?' Luka asked.

'Yep. My parking space is now three cars closer to the main entrance.'

Luka whistled. 'Three cars huh?'

'What about you? Only a _sergeant?_ My-oh-my, what will Caitlin say?'

Luka frowned.

'Ah' said Lewis. 'Ok. We'll let that one slide.' He picked up a sodden sandwich. 'Stay away from the corn beef. It'll kill ya.'

They sat at one of the tables by the windows, away from the main lunchtime throng of state employees. Lewis wolfed down a sandwich and a cream filled cupcake and sucked his contained of Diet-Soda dry with a slurping sound, smacking his lips. 'Ah, cafeteria chow, does it get any better than this?'

Luka talked quietly over his own sandwich. 'I need to do some digging in the prison medical records.'

'Naughty naughty, catchee monkey, takey pension.' Lewis warned. 'Patient Confidentiality and all that jazz.' Lewis saw that Luka was unmoved. 'You decided to go a little wackadoo in your old age? Hmmm? Need a holiday maybe?'

'Cut it out Lewis. Help me or not?'

Lewis sighed. 'If I wind up with my old parking space again I am gonna blame you.'

---

The records were housed in a subbasement. 'We coulda just used that, what do they call it again…computer?' Lewis suggested. Luka had refused. 'Physical records. Have to see the _physical _records.'

Lewis led him to the long metal box files in a darkened room. Between the two of them, they struggled to slide the file case along its tracks and open it up, underneath the grim white light of fluorescent banks.

'Here we are. W. W, w, w…ah!' Lewis said, rifling his hands expertly along the seams of the files and selecting the right row. 'W..'

Luka pushed past him. 'You don't want the rest of the name. If someone asks you, they already know.'

Lewis scratched his head. 'This is all cloak and dagger; sure you don't want to let me in on it?'

Luka shook his head. 'I want to keep it low on the disciplinary action list.' Luka pulled the files aside, flicking through the letter combinations until he found WAINRIGHT. He drew the files from the hanger and took them over to a table.

Lewis peered over his shoulder. 'You're not going to make sense of these things without my help, so step aside buster. What are we looking for?'

Luka unclenched his jaw. 'I don't know exactly. I just had a hunch. A little birdie visited my offices and dropped a hint that something I thought was finished might still be…'

Lewis took the files. 'Ok, we've got a few Wainrights here. Oh my, these are some busy boys. Will you look at that? How many generations of Wainrights have been guests of the state?'

'All of them, at one time or another.' Luka thought of Dalton for a moment and felt a twinge of regret. 'Not all of them deserved it.'

'Well…deserved or not, we have three listed here, with... Oh. Jeez Luka, you didn't tell me this was….' Lewis closed the file, suddenly free from joviality.

'What? Why is it everyone has trouble saying it? It's not such a big deal? It's a place, about thirty miles south of the state border in a shallow little depression they call a valley that raises one clump of dirt higher than the piece of dirt beside it and they call it a hill. It's Keepers Fucking Hill, Ok? The Wainrights, the compound, the whole goddamn thing.' Luka stormed.

Lewis waited until he calmed down. 'Luka, I'm sorry...'

'DONT BE SORRY!' Luka snapped.

Lewis hit him with the file. 'Don't come down here and yell at me Luka. I don't know what to say about it.'

Luka's fist was clenched and his breathing fast. He felt the signs of panic rising in him and he fought to keep his breath normal. After a moment, calm returned. '_I'm_ sorry. It's just people keep talking around the edges of it and it's driving me nuts.'

Lewis nodded. 'I getcha. Now, what are we looking for?'

Luka felt a sense of guilt enhanced by the realisation that his friend truly was trying to help. 'They brought three of them in here, Isaiah, Dalton and Daniel. I need to know what happened to them.'

Lewis found the first entry. 'Wainright, Dalton. Admitted with first and second degree burns, some respiratory distress, three GSW's – shit, this guy was in a bad state. He was released from the infirmary six weeks after arrival. Probably would have gone to general population. Hang on, there's another admission page, he was admitted…' Lewis traced his finger down the page. 'Christ almighty. Abdominal stab wounds, multiple punctures, the spinal…ah Luka, I can't read you this.' Lewis held up a picture tacked to an admission card. 'Christ. He was so young.'

'We were all so young.' Luka took the picture and looked into the eyes of his friend, holding an inmate card below his chin. The depth of sorrow on his face reached out through the photograph and Luka began to smell the scent of…

'Luka, stay with me now' Lewis said warningly.

Luka handed the picture back quickly. 'Is there any chance he survived, after…'

Lewis shook his head with finality. 'They shanked the crap out of him Luka. Someone stuck a pick in his spine. He was dead fast. You can take my word for it, it woulda been quick.'

Luka let out a breath he hadn't know he was holding. 'What about the other two, the father and the brother.'

'Let's see. Wainright, Daniel. DOA.'

Luka looked down at the file. 'DOA? Why would they ship the body here?'

Lewis shrugged. 'Good question. The prison medical facilities may have been the closest.'

Luka snorted.

'Or the right distance to prevent a trial, you know how it is.' Lewis continued.

'Are there any other details on him?'

Lewis pored over the file for a moment. 'Kinda light on the detail here. Funny.'

'Go on' said Luka, sensing something.

'Body was sent to another prison for Post Mortem exam.'

'Is that unusual?'

Lewis considered it. 'Well...it happens from time to time, depending on the Medical Examiners office. You'd have to ask them.'

Luka made a mental note to check. 'What about the Father.'

Lewis thumbed to the last file. 'Wainright, Isaiah. Died of third degree burns. Oh jeez, he died nasty too. What is it, a family thing?'

Luka grabbed the file again. 'No way. He was _alive_ when the Hill went up. I brought him down myself. That bastard was alive.'

'Hold your horses. He _was_ alive when he got here.' Lewis said, pointing to the admission chart. 'See? Treated for smoke inhalation and GSW – I suppose that was you.'

'Or one of the sharpshooters' Luka thought aloud.

'These injuries occurred almost three months after he was first admitted.'

'After Dalton died' Luka said, his head spinning.

'There's no incident report here, you'd have to check the main records, these are just the medical report copies. All I can tell you is, sometime after he was released from the infirmary, he got burnt real bad. _Real_ bad. In fact, I think the admitting nurse was on prison hooch or something because there's no way this could be right.'

'How so?'

Lewis held up a photograph of a blackened torso. 'Because this doesn't happen to someone unless they step into a blast furnace, and certainly not in the middle of the yard.'

Thoughts reeled through Luka mind. Dalton burned but alive, then stabbed to death. Daniel dead from wounds received at the compound. Isaiah, alive after the fire at the compound and then burned to charcoal inside the prison.

'None of this makes sense. Did they say how Isaiah got burned?'

Lewis checked the file. 'Nope. This is just the medical…jeez, the attending has written down a prayer here. Luka, what's going on?'

Luka pulled out a small camera and began taking digital stills of the files. 'I don't know Lewis, but I got a bad feeling that there's some unfinished business coming back on us.'


	19. chapter 18 interlude

The boarding house was a mouldering pile of old weatherboard with barely enough strength to keep the porch from collapsing onto the sidewalk. It drooped menacingly over the street frontage. A Pontiac slowed to a halt outside the house and double parked. Inside the car, a young man held the wheel nervously while the girl peered at the street address.

'Are you sure this is the place? Charlie asked the young man.

'Yes I'm sure, for the thousandth time Charlie. He's in there.'

Charlie saw the conflicting emotions play out across Luka's face. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, sending him a bright red.

'Thanks Luka, I owe you.'

Luka shook his head. 'Just don't tell him it was me, ok?' Charlie opened the door and stepped out of the car. 'I won't. Thanks Luka.'

'Don't mention it. Just..' he paused.

'What?'

'Just don't break his heart, ok? He's a good guy.'

Charlie smiled. 'I know. I love him.'

Part of Luka's smile detached at the words. He gave her a nod and fired up the engine, pulling loudly away from the kerb.

Charlie looked around the street. It was the most run down part of a small, run down town. She plucked up her courage and went to the door and knocked. A wizened old man with curly white hair opened the door. 'Whatchoo want?' he said, automatically, then readjusted his vision as he realised it was a woman. 'Oh. Sorry missy. You need a place to stay? They's only forty dollar a week, cash in advance.' He said, smacking his lips at the thought of another bottle.

'I'm looking for someone, his name's Dalton.'

The old man reappraised her. 'Most people who stay here doan wan' nobody lookin' for them. Maybe you's best be goin'. he replied and tried to shut the door. Charlie stuck her foot firmly in the crack of the door. '_Please_ mister. Please.'

The old man looked into her earnest face and felt a strange sympathetic pang for an earlier, more sober age. He chuckled. 'Hell, if you wuz lookin' fer me, I s'pose I might be inclined that way also. He's upstairs, first door on the landing.'

'Thankyou' Charlie said as she stepped past him, ignoring the reek of old sweat and the vapours of booze rising from him. The hall was dark and shed no light on the stairs. She climbed them, feeling each creak and groan with alarm, as if he might somehow slip away. Charlie shook her head and cleared the thoughts from her mind. At the top of the stairs, the 'landing' was the space between three doors. The paint was old but the locks were bright and shiny. She selected the door to her left and knocked.

'Who is it?' called a muffled voice.

Charlie leant up against the door with her head, unsure of what to say. She felt terrified. 'Dal, open up. It's me.'

The door leapt open and Dalton stood in the doorframe, outlined in the afternoon light that the one window let into the room. Her heart leapt a little, until she saw the knots on his face, muscles quivering. She leaned forward to kiss him but he stepped back. 'What do you want?'

Charlie recoiled, stung. She reacted unthinkingly, slapping him hard across the face.

Dalton grabbed her wrists and she struggled to break free, to hit him, to wake him up, to remind him that…

In the time it took for their eyes to meet, Daltons face crumbled and he collapsed into her arms, sobbing. Charlie held him, feeling his weight bearing down upon her, shaking with him as he was wracked by sobs. Charlie walked him backwards towards the single bed and sat him down. He looked up at her, his face a mess of tears and an adorable smidgen of snot burgeoned from his nose. She cleaned it with a swipe of her sleeve.

'Oh Charlie' he moaned. Charlie drew him close again, holding his face against her breast and stroking the back of his head with her fingers. 'It's ok, it's ok.' She said, over and over. She released him and turned to shut the door. He watched her from the bed, sniffling. Charlie walked the two steps across the narrow room and drew the broken blind down as far as it would go. In the partial darkness, she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it onto the chair. She unbuttoned the clasps on her jeans and let them slide free until she stood before him naked, her nipples growing hard and her breath racing. Dalton held out a hand to her and she took it and lay down beside him.

---

Downstairs, the old man turned his television set up real loud, past even the point where it penetrated his deaf ears. The thin planks of the ceiling above him were no barrier to the sounds and somehow he felt he ought to give them some privacy.


	20. chapter 19

The corridors were abuzz with suited men and women taking purposeful strides until they encountered someone whose stride was made even more purposeful by rank, at which point they would blend into a column of other lesser notables and allow the Truly Worthy free passage.

Pages gave way to administrators who in turn gave way to Armed Service personnel, who gave way to advisors, who gave way to undersecretaries and so on, like cooperative cells in the blood flow of democracy.

As an attorney for State, Jeffrey Kurtz was entitled to a middle tier of deference and a Nice Room with a Window. As he approached his office, Henry, his assistant, was waiting in the corridor looking a little breathless.

'Mr Kurtz Sir, the senator from Wisconsin…' he attempted.

'Yeah, yeah, tell him I'm in committee and I'll get back to him.' growled Jeffrey as he opened his door.

'Good Morning Jeffrey.' said the Senator from Wisconsin

Jeffrey turned to look at his assistant who made an 'I tried to tell you' face. Jeffrey grimaced, swallowed his displeasure and forced a smile. 'Senator, good morning.' With an evil glare directed at his assistant, Jeffrey closed the door and turned to shake hands with the Senator. 'You didn't have to come all the way down here Senator, I would have gladly…'

'And miss a glorious walk down here? Hell no.' the senator interrupted, sitting back in the plush visitors' chair. 'Sit a spell?'

Jeffrey reluctantly chose the chair on the Senators side of the desk, surrendering the advantage of the oak table. The senator was wearing a charcoal grey suit that highlighted the American flag pin in his lapel. His skin was tan, his hair silver and smooth. His tie was red. Jeffrey groaned inwardly at the danger signal.

'Now Jeffrey.' The Senator began. 'I think you know why I am here.'

'Can't for the life of me think what it would be, I'm sure the secretary of state would be happy to…'

The Senators face hardened. 'Jeff, may I call you Jeff? Good. Let's be _frank_. Let's not beat around the _bush_ or waste our time with any of those things we say to people… who aren't on the Estimates committee, mmm? I have read your reports and I wanted to tell you _personally_ how informative and valuable your work has been.'

'But?'

The senator smiled. 'Ah yes. The 'but'. Well, let's just say that we think you've done an outstanding job and we could use someone with your talents on another project.'

Jeffrey blinked. 'Huh?'

'Jeff, how about you come down to the Club on let's see, Wednesday, and we'll talk about it there. Say, midday?'

'Ah, uh, sure, that' be great' Jeffrey blurted, with sacrilegious disregard for his calendar.

'Great!' said the senator enthusiastically. 'That's settled then' he rose, prompting Jeffrey to follow. The senator opened the office door, dislodging poor Henry eavesdropping at the edge. The Senator gave him a knowing smile. 'I'll send a car.'

'Ok.' Jeffrey replied robotically.

As he stepped through the doorway the senator turned back to him for a moment. 'I'm looking forward to reading your final report this week.'

'But, we've only…' Jeffrey said unthinkingly, and then clammed up. 'Yes sir, my _final_ report, this week.'

The Senator nodded. 'I know the President will welcome it. Good to have these things resolved, don't you think? Anyway, see you on Wednesday.' The Senator lent a hand to help Henry up from the floor of the corridor. 'Henry.' He said, kindly

'Thank you Senator' Henry said, accepting the hand up. 'What was _that_ all about?' he said to Jeffrey as he re-entered the room. Jeffrey rubbed the bridge of his nose. 'Shut the goddam door Henry.'

Henry sheepishly shut the door and tried to apologise. 'He just walked right in; I was trying to warn you.'

Jeffrey waved a hand in acknowledgement. 'Yeah I know. Next time, lock the fucking door or something. Aw Christ.'

'Can I get you a soda?' asked Henry. Jeffrey shook his head. 'No, I…have you got a mobile phone?'

Henry looked at him quizzically. 'Yes, I...' Henry unclipped his slimline phone from his belt and handed it to him. Jeffrey took the phone, looked at it and handed it back, changing his mind. 'It's ok Henry, I'm just a little rattled. I'm going to take a walk.'

---

The short bespectacled man in the bow tie was seated in the farthest booth of the Red Lobster, so unobtrusive that he seemed to blend in with the furniture. It was a knack. Jeffrey had to look twice to be sure he was actually there. He plonked down in the seat and ordered a beer from the waitress.

"Drinking at lunchtime now, my my' said the little man. Jeffrey made a wry face. 'I just got ambushed by Senator W-----. I could use a drink.'

'Tch tch. Senators lying in wait for people, what has the world come to?'

Jeffrey was ready to throttle him. 'This isn't funny. He could roast my nuts over a slow fire and the House would pass him the salt.'

The little man laughed. 'Nice metaphor. Stanford, wasn't it? Good course on sarcasm there.'

The waitress brought Jeffrey's beer, forestalling his profanity laden response. 'You knew.'

The man nodded. 'Yes. It was inevitable.'

Jeffrey took a sip from the beer. 'Why?'

The man shrugged. 'He's a gatekeeper. I am surprised you got as far as you did.'

Jeffrey scowled. 'What, with all that high class intel you've been feeding me? What a crock of shit.'

'Now now, don't get so persnickety. You got what we got.'

'I got shafted is what I got. I got a lunch with Darth Vader on Wednesday.'

'Ah. Excellent.' said the little man. 'You ought to try the salad bar here, it's very good.'

Jeffrey felt ready to burst with indignation. 'If you've set me up, so help me.'

The little mans mouth twitched. 'I don't believe you have any reason to be mad at _me_ Jeffrey. As to your unnecessary threat, must I remind you that we're the guys they issue with guns? Hmm? Like this one?' Jeffrey looked own into the barrel of a snub nosed pistol. The little man made it disappear back into the folds of his coat, as if by magic. Jeffrey had gone a pale white.

'Aww don't look so spooked Jeffrey. I just needed you to let go of all that hostility. This is great! They're bringing you closer.'

The relief at the disappearance of the gun was palpable on Jeffrey face. He took another swig of the beer. 'I don't know if I am up for this.'

The little man clapped him on the shoulder. 'Of course you are. You're a patriot, my boy.'

---

The Directors phone line rang. A voice on the other end said 'Please hold.' The call clicked several times. 'Kathy?' said a new voice.

'Sir' Kathy said, smiling.

'We ought to do this more often, except without actually doing _this_. Maybe something not work related. You know B----'s partial to your barbecue.'

Kathy smiled again. 'I'd love to.'

'I started the ball rolling today on that administration problem you've been having. I don't expect you'll have any further problems.'

'Thank you sir. I appreciate it.'

'Keep well Kathy, we're proud of what you've accomplished and you keep in touch now, y'hear?'

'Yes sir, thank you sir.'

The line went dead. The Director looked at the growing mountain of field reports in front of her and felt less positive about her 'accomplishments.'

For a moment, she reminisced about simpler times in her life and realised there hadn't been any. The intercom buzzed. 'Director, Steve's still waiting.'

"Send him in' she replied and flicked the buzzer off. Steve stalked in through the door, scanning the room in a concise movement of his head, checking the corners for the bogey men that theoretically lurked in any place not under constant surveillance. Kathy repressed a smile. Old habits were hard to break.

'Musta been some phone call' Steve ventured.

'Just my old boss. Anyway, what have you got for me?'

Steve wasn't happy at having his line of questioning ended, but he sat down and started to give his report. 'So far, I have been a tax assessor, a wal mart productivity consultant, an insurance adjuster, a post office inspector and a senior line technician.'

'What, you want a raise?'

Steve chuckled. 'Hardy har har. I've closed down eighteen links so far with no result.'

Kathy grimaced. 'Is that all?'

Steve let out a whistle. 'Gee, thanks for the pep talk coach.'

'Sorry Steve, I didn't mean it like that. It's just that there are…so many.'

'Don't sweat it Kat…Director. Greg's working the numbers for me now to try and pick out the most probable unknowns. He's got a bank of students trolling through thirty years worth of newspapers for anything that jumps out.'

Kathy frowned. 'Is that wise'

'He's pitched it as a mathematical model of pop-culture.' Steve chuckled again. 'Says it's his most popular course ever. Should see the co-eds.'

Kathy rolled her eyes. 'Ok. What else.'

Steve blinked. 'Well…I was thinking about our friend downstairs.'

Kathy shook her head. 'Discussion over. Bad Guys Tell No Tales. Let him wait.'

'Okay, if you say so…'

Kathy waited for him to finish the sentence. When he didn't, she balled up her fists. 'Jeez just say what's on your mind Steve.'

'The faster we get through this, the less time anyone has to upset the applecart.'

Kathy's mouth was set in a grim line.

'Okay, okay' Steve said, holding his hands up. 'No harm in asking.'

'Yes, yes there is. What he wants for his help isn't mine to give him. It runs against the grain of the little we have achieved. I'd rather put a bullet in his head, though even that may not work.'

'There's always our Filipino nephew. He's got quite a way with those hands of his.' Steve said, shivering.

'That had…crossed my mind.' Kathy stood and went to her window, looking down to the sculpture in the courtyard. 'We strive to eke a little good out of this madness.' She turned aback to face him, noticing the worry lines forming around his eyes. He was exhausted but hiding it well. She smiled at him. 'We'll keep that one up our sleeve for now. As for you, you need to take a few days off.' she held up a hand as he started to protest 'Armageddon can wait a few days Steve, go fishing or something.'

---

'Nygaard Galleries, yes, this is He. Mmm hmm..Ah. Hello Sascha. What can I do for you darling...hold a moment' Erles leant away from the phone and glared at a visitor. 'You grease it with your fingers, you own it' he warned. 'Sascha…darrrling' Erles drawled, returning to the phone. He kept one eye on the gallery visitors and the other on the copy of the Art Journal. The gallery was visible in one tiny montage shot. Still, even a small gesture was worth a cash return.

'You did? Really? We are? My, I hadn't heard' he lied into the phone, flipping back to the page featuring Charlie in profile. 'Sweetie, I'd love to but all the pieces I have are on consignment already. You should have taken me up on it last year.' Erles said, trying to hide the glee. 'Absolutely. You'll be the _first_ one I call' he said sweetly. 'Love to the kids, mwah.'

Erles put the phone down and rubbed his hands together. He had already fended off several calls from his old New York acquaintances and even one from a designer for a Vegas Casino. In his mind, he saw the dollar signs of Truly Great (and saleable) Art.

'How much is this?' said the grease fingered visitor.

Erles did a quick assessment of his accoutrement before replying succinctly: 'More than you can afford.'

Perhaps he said it a little too happily, judging by the foul look he received in reply, but what the Hey! These were the Nygaard Galleries. Or maybe, 'Gallery Nygaard' would look better.

'Hey, up yours, Pal.' replied the visitor, giving him the bird and stomping out. Erles watched him depart, happy to see someone exit without a sale for the first time in ages.

--

Rufus sat at the edge of the stage. 'I'm bored' he thought. 'I'm BORED!' he said out loud. The skinny chick gave him a 'shut up' look, which he ignored. 'Come on JJ, Jesus.'

Vicki scowled at him and continued removing JJ's makeup. JJ sat perfectly still, allowing her to remove all traces of the powder. 'Sorry Ruf, we're almost done.'

There were more staff now, mysteriously they had started to filter back in ones and two's over the last few days, but Vicki was still personally applying and removing his makeup.

JJ wouldn't have it any other way. It was as close as he could get to her, physically. Every time she moved in to dab at his face he could smell her sweet scent, lavender or something else they put in those girly deodorants.

'I'd appreciate it if you didn't take the Lords name in vain.' said a suited man, walking out from the newly established control booth on the studio floor.

'Sorry Josiah, he's just waiting to give me a ride.' JJ explained, trying to cover for him. Rufus rolled his eyes. 'The boys are waiting in the van man, they're gonna be pissed. We're already late for rehearsal.'

Josiah regarded JJ's friend with a mixture of displeasure and curiosity. 'Are you a musician?' he asked, equably. Rufus raised an eyebrow in mock horror. 'Sir, you ask _me_, if I, the great Ruffino De Spaghettini, am a musician sir? Is the pope a bear? Does a catholic sh... '

'Ruf, please' JJ begged, fearing the outcome of the old gag.

Rufus caught his warning tone and calmed down. 'Yeah. I play music. And sometimes, so does the Messiah here' he gestured to JJ. 'Execrably mind you, but he's all we've got and the rehearsal studio's gonna cost us fifty bucks whether we're on time or not.'

'Well young man, your friend JJ is doing important work, the lords' work, I am sure that...'

Rufus opened up his guitar case and pulled out the guitar, ignoring Josiah. 'Well, if Mohammed won't come to the mountain, we'll practise here.' he strummed a chord.

'Young man!' snapped Josiah.

'Worship the LORD with gladness; come before him with joyful songs... Psalm 100' murmured JJ.

Vicki beamed at him as he spoke and JJ looked into her eyes. Rufus caught the moment from his viewpoint and leapt forward, singing 'Jesus loves me, oh yes I know.' unusually in tune. Vicki turned with a bright smile on her face. Behind her, JJ made a menacing gesture at Rufus, angry that his second's contact had been dispelled, but Vicki was entranced. Rufus nodded at JJ and JJ got the hint. Maybe there _was_ a way after all.

He quickly joined in the singing, taking the lead vocals from Rufus, who harmonised underneath. He stood up and sang 'Pressing on the up away, Always guide me Lord I pray, Undeserving, and stubbornly never fail to love me still'

Rufus winked at him and they closed the song down, ending together on 'cos the bible te-ells me sooooo'

Vicki clapped her hands. 'That was _wonderful_' she said, impulsively hugging JJ. It _was_ wonderful. Wonderful.

Rufus tipped JJ a wink that seemed to say 'gotcha!' and JJ smiled in return. Even the floor staff had stopped packing up the last of the show to stand and listen. The music seemed to hang in the air until broken by the slapping of hand on hand as Josiah applauded. 'The lord continues to smile upon this enterprise, hallelujah!' Josiah strode over to Rufus and grabbed him by the shoulder. 'Cancel your rehearsal room, play your joyous music unto the lord right here!'

Rufus grinned. 'Sure, why not. A bit of holy rock might be the ticket. You cool with that JJ?'

JJ shrugged, but Vicki looked delighted, so he cheered up. 'Yeah, that'd be cool'. Rufus nodded. 'I'll round'em up. You find a place to setup.' Rufus replaced the guitar neatly back into its case and ran for the door. Moments later, three scruffy young men in black jeans and t-shirts started humping amplifiers and a drum kit into the studio.

Josiah was congratulating himself on another brilliant idea when his phone chirped. He excused himself to take the call.

'Josiah De Jean' he said into the phone.

'Josiah? Is that you, what's that racket?'

Josiah gulped down a breath and hurried into a quiet spot in the corridor.

'It's just the band sir...'

The chairman took him off speakerphone and his voice became more resonant and commanding. 'Band? What band? Josiah, we've been seeing some strange things coming out of…'

'Sir, I know, I just..'

'Don't interrupt me De Jean!' snapped the Chairman. 'That studio should be closed by now.' Josiah withered under the import of the Chairman's tone. 'We sent you to perform a task and what have you done?'

'Sir..' Josiah tried lamely.

'I think congratulations are in order.'

Josiah almost fainted.

'Your new show is demonstrating considerable appeal to the younger demographic. I think you've found something there. In fact, I want you to bring that young man, what's his name?'

'Er. JJ, Sir. He's a musician.'

'JJ Sir? What kind of name is that? Hell, who cares. I want you to bring your show down to Memphis for the Revival in two weeks.'

'But, but' Josiah stammered.

'DeJean! Are you playing some kind of game with me son? Have KKLM been in touch with you? Those bastards are always trying to pinch our…'

Josiah steadied himself. 'No sir, you know I'm a ministry man. I was just uncertain as to whether or not...'

'Josiah, I'll forgive you the sin of ignoring my express instructions, but come hell or high water, you get your show on the road and bring them down here, you got that?'

'Yes sir.' Josiah said with relief.

"God be with you son. See you in two weeks.'


	21. chapter 20

The R was nice, very nice. John Redman ordered room service and exercised in front of the TV until it arrived. The bellhop was a little perturbed by the bruised and swollen faced man who took the trolley from him and gave him a $5 tip for the fright.

The phone rang and John answered it in between bites of his club sandwich

'Hello?'

'Are you okay?'

'yes Chief.' John answered

'_Really _ok_?'_

John sighed. 'Please Bill, I am ok.'

Chief Bill didn't complain about the use of his first name. He just sounded tired.

'I'm sorry John, my headaches aren't going away and we got a report that you were pretty banged up. You know your Ma would give me hell if…'

John grinned. Ma was capable of giving anyone hell. 'I tried to call her.'

The chief was silent on the line for a moment. 'She's probably on the gaming floor somewhere.' he said, sadly. 'We lose one problem, we gain another. Still. Maybe it's time you gave up whatever it is you're doing and come on back. I could use all the help I can get.'

John's ears pricked up. 'Is it bad?'

'They want our license John. If we don't play ball, they want to go after us.'

'Who? The mob guys?'

John could hear Chief Bill breathing, he felt the concern in his voice. 'I don't know John. I don't know. I gotta get back out there. That rooms yours until you want to leave. Give it a few days to heal up and then head on back. I don't want your Ma seeing you messed up.'

'Thanks Chief. What about that guy I spoke to you about…?'

"John we've done what we can. He's been moved to a different housing unit and I got a lawyer running over his case…'

'That's swell, but look, can you get a message to him?'

'Jesus in a jumpsuit John, I'm not your goddam secretary. Hold the line and I'll transfer you to Precious Flower, she'll pass on whatever you need

'Thankyou Chief.' John said, meaning both words. "Hey, before you go..'

'What, John?'

John smiled. 'I'm proud to have you as my Chief, Bill Williams.'

The Chief harrumphed and hung up. The phone clicked and Precious Flower answered in her usual slow drawl. 'Yas John.'

'Hi Precious' John said, smiling.

'Just tell me what you want to write, John' Precious said, shutting him down. There was no pleasing the woman.

'I need you to get a message to…'

'Yas John, I know. I was listening.'

John grinned. She listened in all the time. 'Ok. I need him to be on the lookout for a young guy, his name is Lewis. His fath…his mama's name is Red and she did me a good turn. I ask him to extend the same care. He'll know what I mean.'

'Is thet all?' Precious drawled.

'Yes Precious, that's all. Nice talking with you.'

'Always a pleasure' precious said and hung up.

---

'Will you be checking out today?' asked the concierge, rather hopefully.

'Not with crazy prices like these!' John exclaimed. 'I may stay a month!'

The concierge made a desperate effort to look pleased at the news.

John laughed. 'Don't worry, I just need to recover from my last bout.'

'Oh. You're a _boxer_.' said the concierge, brightening considerably. 'Oh my, you must have had a tremendous fight.' Not to mention considerable funds to afford the Penthouse. Evidently pleased that his high rolling guest wasn't a drug dealer or pimp, the Concierge was positively beaming.

John was not about to dispel any misapprehension that would cheer the man up. 'More like a mixed martial arts sort of thing. Bit of wrestling. Got cut and had to retire hurt.'

'Well.' said the concierge. 'Whilst you're convalescing, what can we do to keep you entertained? One assumes you wish to maintain a low public profile.'

John nodded. 'Until I return to a normal colour.'

'Quite. Perhaps you'd care to accept a complementary day spa session?'

John thought about spending the day under a hot towel and realised it would also keep him neatly out of sight. 'Sure. Let's give it a whirl.'

---

Johns pores were thoroughly cleaned. He had been steamed, wiped, waxed, manicured, pedicured and felt closer to Red and her girlfriends than he had ever felt in his life.

'I feel pretty' he said aloud, evoking a smile from the perfectly coiffured salon attendant.

'We try not to tell the men how good this stuff is, keep it for the girls' she confided.

John nodded. 'This is definitely the life. I could get used to this.'

The girl smiled back at him and brought over a bowl of guacamole.

'Where are the corn chips?' john asked, suddenly hungry. The attendant shook her head. 'This is for your face.'

John grimaced at the waste of a good avocado and lay back while she trowelled Mexican Dip onto the safe parts of his face, leaving a gap around in his cheek.

'This will help with the swelling. If you don't mind my asking, were you in an accident?'

'Sort of.'

She finished applying the mask and sat back to look at him. John felt like a Nachos platter.

'Ok, we'll just put some cooling bags over your eyes and leave you to rest for a few minutes.' John watched in alarm as she brought two soggy looking teabags over on a plate and dangled them above his forehead. 'Just close your eyes now.' She said.

---

John awoke from a dreamless sleep to feel a tugging against his skin. 'Stop it coyote, you crazy mutt.' he said, laughing as it tickled.

"I beg your pardon?' demanded the attendant. She removed the tea bags from his eyes so she could treat him to a glower.

'Sorry about that, I think I dozed off there. I was dreaming that my old…puppy…was licking my face.' john said, feeling a little awkward. 'Blame it on the salsa.'

The attendant didn't look any less unhappy, but she seemed to accept the explanation. 'That's ok. People fall asleep in here all the time. At least you didn't have a nightmare.'

John raised an eyebrow. 'People have nightmares? In _here_?'

The attendant nodded. 'Oh you'd be surprised what goes on in a day spa. Plenty of women come in when they're feeling down or blue.'

'I take it they off-load on you?'

She smiled sadly. 'Comes with the territory. That's why they call it beauty _therapy_.'

John laughed and winced. Her hand shot out and touched his cheek. 'I'm so sorry.' She said, feeling guilty at having made him laugh. John smiled. 'I needed that. Thanks.' She was close to him, picking away at the final pieces of facemask to reveal smooth brown skin and a thin pink line on his cheek. 'That rest seems to have done you the world of good. If I hadn't seen you when you came in, I'd swear…'

'You know' he said. 'I just had a crazy idea. Have dinner with me.'

She stood and quickly withdrew to a safer distance and adopted a professional tone. 'I'm sorry, we…'

'John. John Redman' he said, inserting himself into her sentence. 'If you're going to say no, at least use my name.'

She paused, smiling. "Well…John Redman, as I was saying, the hotel frowns on patrons and…'

John slapped his thigh. 'They already disapprove the hell out of me anyway. What's to lose?'

'My job' she said, flatly.

'Ah.' He said.

She lifted her eyes to meet his. 'But you might meet me at a restaurant.'

---

'Good night sir!' the Concierge called as John walked through the foyer towards the glass exit doors. John grinned. He had purchased aviator sunglasses and a blazer at the hotel stores and was feeling decidedly preppy. He had oiled his hair back and reined it in with a leather cord threaded with turquoise. He _ought_ to look hot.

He stepped into the waiting cab and tipped the doorman, who closed the door and gave a tip of his hat.

Ten minutes later, John was opposite his date, across a checked table cloth held in place by a wicker wrapped bottle draped in melted wax.

'This is very romantic' she said. 'Oh. My name's Cassandra. Cassie for short.'

John reached out a hand and shook her hand, enveloping it his own for a moment and allowing it to linger.

'You sure are frisky, mister.' She said, laughing.

John could feel it too; something infectious. He felt unusually happy, as if his senses had been sharpened. Maybe the anaesthetic had been messing with his head. Everything seemed more colourful, richer; louder. He released her hand and apologised.

'I'm sorry, Cassie. This is just…I don't know. Kind of 'pleasant' I suppose you'd call it.'

She took a sip of her wine. 'Pleasant? That's a strange thing to say.'

John nodded. 'Normal is very strange for me.'

She was watching him from behind the protective cover of her wineglass. He seemed continually poised, as if ready to jump up at any moment. She felt a sense of danger and excitement. His nostrils flared out with each breath.

'How's this working out for you?' he asked, breaking in on her thoughts.

Cassie blinked. 'I. Ah. Would you like to come back to my place?'

'Absolutely!' John exclaimed, but then looked around the restaurant. 'But you know, this place looks nice. Let's eat first.'

Cassie shook her head in amazement at her own words, but John was already scanning the menu. 'I'm ravenous' he said. 'What have they got here that's got meat in it?'

---

They walked along with avenue after the meal, arm in arm. Cassie was wearing John's Jacket in the cool night air. John felt strangely contended. The urgency that had fuelled him for the last few weeks seemed to have abated.

'This is my stop' Cassie said. She opened the white picket fence and walked a pace inside. John stopped at the gate. Cassie raised an eyebrow. 'You won't come inside?'

John smiled. 'It's been a great night Cassie.'

She held out his jacket to him. He took it and slipped it back on. The cool air made her shiver.

'Well, John Redman. I guess I'll see you around.' She stepped back through the gate and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek, watching his eyes. When they didn't move, she frowned, turned and walked back to her porch. John waited while she unlocked her front door and entered the house, giving him one last look over her shoulder as she shut the door. When it closed shut, John let out a sigh.

'Ha!' said Owl from the tree above the fence. John looked up at him. 'Hello Owl' he said.

'Ha!' said owl again. 'What was _that_?'

John looked around, the street was empty, so no one would mind if he talked to a tree branch. The lights in the house came on as Cassie moved from room to room.

Owl blinked slowly at John. 'John my boy, don't play coy with your ancestors.'

John grinned. He liked Owl, but seldom had the opportunity to speak. Sometimes, seeing Owl could be very bad, but this didn't seem like one of those times. 'Not following you Owl, care to spell it out?'

Owl hooted. 'You sure are a funny one. What gives with the hottie? You lost your nerve?'

'Hey' John called back. 'I'm just trying to have a _normal_ night. You know; like Regular Folks.'

Owl hooted again. 'You crack me up John Redman. Our tribe does not chicken out.'

The lights in one corner of the house blinked on. John could see movement from between the slats of the window shutters.

'You know my motto on this subject?' Owl enquired.

'No. Do tell' John replied.

Owl deigned to move his head in John's direction. 'Smoke'em if you got'em son, life's too short.' Owl's head shot back to a different angle, spying a possible meal. 'I gotta run John, but take my advice. You've had a rough time. Live a little.' He flapped his wings and jumped from the branch, arcing upwards and then dropped in a furious rustling of leaf and wing to seize an unfortunate rodent scurrying amongst the leaves. Owl looked back with a mouthful of mouse and tipped him a wink.

The shutter on the house had moved, casting a silhouette into the garden. Cassie stood in the window, wearing a night dress. Somehow she was looking right at him. She reached up to the throat of the night dress and released a button. It slid to the floor as she turned into the light. John gulped. A moment later, the front door swung open. 'Ah what the hell' John Redman said and pushed the picket gate aside.

---

Cassie was woken by the sounds of someone in her kitchen. There was no awkward moment of coming to realise what she had done and then the pang of regret when the bed next to her was unoccupied. Nor was there the following comfort of privacy. Her guest was still here all right, and going through her shit.

She quickly fastened a bathrobe around her and hurried out to the kitchen.

He had pans on the stove boiling water and seemed to be flipping something in a frypan.

'Morning' he called out cheerfully.

Cassie sat on a stool next to the mid kitchen island and watched in amazement as a cup of coffee was poured from a dazzling height, forming up perfectly to the brim without a drop spilt. A plate quickly assembled in front of her bearing eggs, mushrooms and other things she hadn't realised she had in the fridge. Within seconds, he was sat in front of her, reading the paper and wolfing down his eggs from a matching plate. When she remained motionless for a few seconds, John shook the paper and looked over at her. 'Eat!' he said, waving a fork at her. Cassie was stung into action and quickly forked eggs into her mouth.

'Not bad' she allowed. 'Where'd the spread come from? I didn't hear you come back in?' – 'let alone go out', she thought to herself.

John munched and smiled. 'There's toast. Want some?'

'Sure' Cassie said nodding. 'You can't still have been hungry?'

'Ravenous.' he said, buttering to slices of toast and putting them on a side plate. 'That spa thing did the trick. Thought you might be a little hungry too…' he said, giving her a less than chaste smile.

Cassie almost blushed. He was right though; she _was_ hungry. And a little sensitive in certain places. John caught her look. 'I have some ointment for that' he offered.

Cassie laughed. John laughed too, but said: 'No, I'm serious, my uncle Whitefeather made me up a jar of this killer saddle sore cream.'

'So I never asked you, what is it you do?' Cassie said, finishing her eggs.

John considered it for a moment. 'Truthfully? It's a bit of everything. I work for my Tribe's casino as a…well…sort of dogsbody I guess. Sort of a trouble-shooter.' He grinned widely at the thought. 'Maybe trouble-_almost_-shooter is more accurate.'

'That sounds exciting!' Cassie enthused. 'Oh. Except you get beat up.'

John nodded. 'That's one of the perks. On the bright side, they put me up in nice hotels to recover.'

Cassie beamed back at him and snuggled around her cup of coffee. "So are you going to disappear now, Mr Redman?' she said and immediately felt awful. It was a subject she hadn't meant to bring up.

John looked askance. 'Ah…no. I got word from on high, you might say, to take a day or two off, but I'll have to get on the road sooner or later.'

Cassie couldn't help but frown. John reached out a hand and took hers. "What do you do for fun around here?'

---

The lake was bordered by lawns and sculpted woodlands. The last of the forests had dwindled to a clump of trees providing shelter to the open air BBQ area. It was free from the errant pieces of trash that would signify regular usage by an uncaring public.

'Pretty' John murmured as he stepped between the trees.

'Isn't it?' Cassie said, stopping beside him. 'I used to come here a lot as a kid.'

John looked around the park. It was empty, save one lone figure walking their dog.

'I'm surprised there aren't more people here.' He wondered aloud.

Cassie shrugged. 'It's got a story attached to it.'

'Ah.' said John. 'Now I'm _definitely_ interested.' He hunkered down on a tree root.

Cassie sat beside him, gathering her skirt up to keep it above the ground. 'Huh?'

'One of the other things I do. I collect 'stories'. Tell me the story of why people don't come to the lake.'

Cassie shivered, as if a cloud had drifted in front of the sun and it had grown cold. 'Cripes John, why don't we just talk about something else?'

A hooting noise floated out from the trees. 'What was that?' Cassie said abruptly.

John pricked up his ears. He closed his eyes and listened. Water was lapping gently against the shore. Insects were buzzing in the grasses. The high, far-away sound of laughter.

'People died here. Young people' he said softly.

Cassie drew in a sharp breath. 'How did you…'

John held up his hand and he stood. He walked down onto the soft slope where the water lapped on black earth and stopped. 'There' he said, pointing. 'They gathered together at the edge of the lake.'

Cassie stood up and walked over to him. 'John, you're scaring me.'

John's eyes traversed across the water and around the lake. He stooped to taste the water.

'John, wait.' Cassie said, reaching for him. John cupped his palm and took a sip of the water. He spat it out fiercely.

'I could have told you.' admonished Cassie, 'It went brackish a while back. They think the salt came up through the water table.'

John shook his head. 'Tears. They're tears.' Cassie gasped. She turned around and ran away from him. 'Hey Cassie!' he called out as she ran. 'Aw crap' he muttered and set off after her.

Despite having the advantage of length of stride, Cassie was running at a breakneck pace and John had to remember how to run properly to bring down game. He adopted a long loping stride that caught her when her energy gave way. As he reached her, he could hear her wracking sobs coming out with each harshly drawn breath.

'Shit Cassie, I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to…' he tried to get a hold of her and draw her upright but she pushed him away, still doubled over and holding her knees. 'I just…I just…need…to…get …my…breath…back' she panted.

John sat down cross legged in the grass and waited for her to calm.

Cassie looked at him a little sheepishly. 'I'm sorry John. You must think I'm crazy.'

John shook his head. 'Not at all. I went a little John Edwards on you and you got spooked. My bad.'

Cassie laughed. John put out a hand and pulled her to sit beside him.

'No John, that's not it. I guess it's just a story I didn't want to share with you, or anyone for that matter.'

John looked at her thoughtfully. 'I really didn't mean to...'

Cassie put her hand up to his lips. 'I haven't told anyone this for, for forever it seems.' Cassie gathered herself in, settling into the grass. 'It's an old ghost I never laid to rest.'

'Ah. That's why you brought me.' John said sagely.

Cassie looked at him with an amused smile. 'Come again?'

John straightened up in his sitting posture and tried to look wise. 'Deputy Medicine Man at your service. Old family tradition. Spook removal a specialty.'

Cassie laughed.

'Who ya gonna call?' John said, deadpan.

Cassie stopped laughing and looked at him. He seemed sincere, in a smart-alecky sort of way. She sighed. 'Ok, here goes. A while back, a bunch of kids got drowned here. Big local tragedy. Local kids, local families'

John nodded. 'That accounts for Owl being around.'

Cassie looked puzzled. 'Owl?'

John nodded. 'He turned up last night, and again just before. He made that noise.' John mimicked the mournful hooting.

'What's that got to do with anything?' Cassie said, almost angry.

John raised his hands, palm out. 'For my tribe, Owl represents Ancestors. Sometimes, he also represents Death. If Owls poking about, it means someone isn't happy being dead and needs to communicate.'

Cassie blanched white. 'Fuck you John, or whatever your name is.'

'Hey!' John shot back. 'What's got into you?'

Cassie's lips were pressed together in a furious line. John waved a hand in front of her face. 'Hey Cassie, it's me, the guy you had eggs with, ok? Listen, if you don't want to talk about this, we don't have to. My offer to try and help put your ghosts to rest is genuine. You might not believe in that sort of thing, but my people do. I didn't mean to offend you.'

Cassie doubled over and cried again. John moved to her and put an arm around her, holding her until the sobs finished. 'Shit.' He said to himself. 'What have I done?'

Cassie looked up, her face tear streaked. 'I'm _really_ sorry John, its just so many people tried to get me to tell that story, mostly reporters. I thought maybe you had slipped under my radar.' John gave her a squeeze.

'My mom.' Cassie said, trembling, then the dam holding back the old story burst asunder and she spoke without tremor.

'My mom, she was a teacher, elementary school and sometimes preschool. One day, she took her class to the lake.'

John could feel the ancestors drawing near. The water at the edge of the lake shimmered and sparkled. John acknowledged them and turned back to Cassie.

'Go on.' He said.


	22. Chapter 21

'And this is senator K----'

'How do you do' said Jeffrey, shaking hands

'Congressman T-----' the senator said, making the next introductions.

Jeffrey's head was awhirl trying to memorise the names and faces of each of the Big Important Men he was being introduced to. This helped to establish his geographical position within the corridors of power, or in this case, the luncheon rooms of power.

Tables were spaced well apart from one another and strategically screened with potted plants, providing a 'be-seen' area in the centre of the room and more discrete seating among the foliage. 'Take a seat' said the pale grey haired man at the head of the table. He was incongruously wearing sunglasses indoors. Jeffrey found such affectations a trifle pathetic.

'Jeff, this is James Bernbaum, National Security Advisor.' Said the senator

'Nice to meet you' said Jeffrey. The man rose to shake his hand, swinging left and right until homing in on the outstretched hand. 'He's blind!' Jeffrey realised. They shook hands and sat back down at their respective places.

A waiter artfully inserted a linen napkin onto his lap and poured water into his glass.

'Will you join us in some wine?" asked the blind man.

'Sorry?' said Jeffrey, taking a moment to realise he was the target of the question.

'Of course he will.' The Senator from Wisconsin answered for him. They poured the wine. 'Let's eat!' cried Congressman T----.

---

Lunch passed swiftly and uneventfully. Jeffrey remained on edge the entire meal, waiting for something more than complaints about Public Office, or getting a good school in DC, or what the wives did or didn't do (or know). It all felt very chummy. His only inclusion in the conversation was when Congressman T---- excused himself from the table to go 'shoot the breeze' and the Senator took the opportunity to compliment his report.

'It's very good' he said. The other men at the table nodded. Jeffrey smiled nervously. 'I don't know if I'm comfortable speaking about…'

'Pshaw' said the Senator. 'We're all above clearance here Jeff my boy. We think you've done a fine job.

'A fine job' the men echoed

Jeffrey blinked. They were all looking at him now. Even the blind man at the end of the table seemed to be staring directly at him.

Jeffrey dabbed at the edge of his mouth with the napkin. He cleared his throat. 'I...' he began and Congressman T---- stomped back over, clapping Jeffrey on the shoulder with a wet hand. 'What we need is some good ceegars and a drink.'

The men agreed emphatically and started to rise from the table. Jeffrey's mouth clamped shut. The blind man pointed at Jeffrey, pointing to his mouth. Jeffrey turned his head at an angle, unsure of what he meant. The man pointed again at his chin and Jeffrey reached up a hand and found a small speck of food. He dabbed it away with the napkin. The blind man smiled.

---

The cigars were good, but Jeffrey didn't smoke. The scotch was good, but he kept it to one glass of single malt, for fear of losing it and running around the lunch rooms screaming. Other than picking up inner circle gossip, it was wholly uneventful.

At the conclusion of the afternoon's non-events, the Senator walked Jeffrey out to the street. 'My car will take you back. Thank you so much for coming today, Jeff. I hope you'll repeat the visit, perhaps in the capacity of a _member_.' The Senator said, tantalisingly.

Jeffrey would have swooned, but he opted for an enormous grin. 'Thank you Senator, it'd be an honour.'

The doorman opened the car and stepped aside to allow Jeffrey to slide onto the seat. The door swung shut and the car pulled forward, stopping abruptly as the door opened again. The senator leaned in. 'Hope you don't mind Jeff, but I just realised we need to give JB a lift here. Hold on just a mite.'

The white cane preceded the man as the doorman perched him on the seat behind the drivers screen.'

'Thank you JT.' The Blind Man said to the senator, and then turned his head to where Jeffrey sat. 'If you don't mind, of course.'

'Not a bit.' Jeffrey replied quickly.

'Ok!' said the Senator cheerily and closed the door. The limousine pulled forward more smoothly now and entered the stream of traffic.

In the quiet interior of the car, Jeffrey could hear the tick of a clock in the dash. There was a minibar, so he helped himself to a bottle of cola. He looked up at his travelling companion. 'Did you want a drink?'

The man smiled. 'No thank you, I'm fine.'

Jeffrey broke the seal on the bottle and took a good long swig. The sugar and caffeine hit his stomach with a warm tingle and he immediately felt better. 'Say, do you mind if I ask you a question?' he said to the Blind Man.

The man nodded. 'Be my guest.'

Jeffrey leaned forward. 'You're not really blind, are you?'

The man chuckled. 'None so blind as those who will not see.' He said with a laugh. Jeffrey reached forward and pulled up the Blind Mans sunglasses. The eyes were perfect, flawless blue, yet unfocused, as if looking into the far distance.

'There's nothing wrong with your eyes.' Jeffrey said in wonder. His wrist was gripped by strong fingers, pushing him away with surprising strength for someone who looked so frail.

'Sit back Mr Kurtz. No one is trying to deceive you.' Jeffrey fell back onto the rear seat, apologising. 'I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me, it's just at lunch you…'

'Ah' said the Blind Man. 'I acted like a sighted person. Yes, that does happen from time to time. Can be very disconcerting.'

Jeffrey shook his head. 'You saw something on my face and pointed to it. Your eyes are fine.'

The man nodded. 'My eyes are, physiologically, in excellent condition.'

'Then what's with the whole blind guy routine? Does it get you laid?'

The man laughed again. 'My, how quickly your civility lapses, Mr Kurtz. I lost my sight in the line of duty. Although my eyes are in perfect condition, I do not _see_. Occasionally, my body reacts to the information presented by my eyes, but I can assure you, I have no visual appreciation of it.'

Jeffrey scowled. 'You're talking nonsense.'

The man shook his head. 'I'm afraid not.' He flicked the intercom switch. 'Paul, will you take us to my office please.'

'Certainly, Sir' replied the driver. The intercom clicked off.

Jeffrey started to feel nervous again.

The Blind Man smiled. 'Don't fret Mr Kurtz. This is one detour I'm sure you will enjoy'

---

The phone rang later that night, as he knew it would. Jeffrey had a pounding headache.

'Well, how's my favourite lawyer' the thin voice on the other end of the line said.

'I'm through.'

'Jeffrey, what ever are you talking about?'

Jeffrey gripped the phone tightly 'Listen to me. We're done. Over. Finished. Kaput.'

There was silence on the end of the line.

'Lunch went well did it? Did they offer you a nice chair?'

Jeffrey paced around his living room, looking at the bag on the table, half packed with clothes. 'Have you ever seen a presidential order with your name on it?' he asked sweetly.

The phone remained quiet.

'I thought not.' Jeffrey continued to pack the bag.

'So now you are running away?'

Jeffrey stopped dead still, looking out through his windows.

'Jeffrey, Jeffrey, Jeffrey. Where's your loyalty?'

Jeffrey stood up straight and faced the darkness. 'My commission has been reactivated and my Commander in Chief has given me a direct order. They've taken me out of the play. Do whatever it is you're going to do.'

Jeffrey waited for the shot, but it never came. Instead, he heard a sad sigh down the phone line.

'I appreciate your honesty. You won't hear from me again.' The phone line clicked and went dead. Jeffrey stood in the window for a few more moments, then turned and finished packing his bag.

---

'There's a fat man waiting to see you' the Desk Sergeant said, giving Luka a wink. 'Oh, and the Boss wants to see you too.' He said it with a warning tilt of his head, indicating the order of priority. 'Thanks' said Luka, meaning anything but. He changed directions and headed upstairs.

The Boss was in his office taking a nap. Luka knocked on the door and the boss waved him in. 'Siddown Luka. Siddown. Oh my frickin head.' He complained. The boss took the heat pack off his forehead and tried squeezing his sinuses.

'Got a cold?'

The boss shook his head. 'Nobe. Sinus infection. How are you doig on the Jackdon cade?'

'I'm following up on a few leads…'

The Boss frowned. 'Bluka, dohn bullthid me. Ibe already depending you for unauthorithed ack-thess to medical piles'

Luka winced. 'Ah. You know about that.'

The boss nodded vigorously. 'I dow frickin' everything, that's whay um a captain. When you're a captain, you'll dow eberything too.' The Boss gave a snort into a tissue and practised breathing through each nostril individually. He tried a jolt from a nasal inhaler and jumped as it bit into the sore membranes of his nose.

'Are you sure you should be doing that Boss?" said Luka, watching him quiver.

The Boss snorted and blew. 'That stuff is so nasty. Ah. That's a bid better. Ok, now I can bawl you out good.'

'Aww come on Boss…' Luka tried, Fonzi style.

The Boss laughed. 'That's cute. No I'm not pissed at you for annoying the Bureau or the ATF. Screw'em. The evidence leads..'

'Where the evidence leads' Luka finished for him.

The Boss smiled. 'But how does the evidence lead where you're going?'

Luka fidgeted for a moment, unwilling to respond. The Boss rolled his eyes. 'You have a murder to solve in the present. No more digging up the past until you solve the one we got _now_, do you feel me?'

Luka nodded, suitably admonished. 'There's a connection, I know it.'

'Okay. Tell me who killed Jackson, and then you can figure out how it's connected to whatever it is you got beef with. Until then, dow more' he blew his nose furiously. 'No more conspiracy theory stuff. Real police work Luka, the kind I like when you do.'

Luka nodded. 'Ok Boss. Is that it?'

'Yes. I mean, No. You got a visitor in your office. Make nice. My wife buys quilts from him.'

'Ok Boss.' Luka said and withdrew to the sound of yet more nasal clearing.

-

Luka walked back downstairs towards his office. His visitor was in the hallway chatting with a uniformed officer who quickly excused himself as Luka approached. Erles watched the officer walk away with an appreciative leer.

'Men in uniform huh?' Luka said.

The man turned his full attention on Luka. Luka felt the rumblings of a lecture, but the man seemed to change his mind at the last minute. 'You must be Sergeant Wachowski.'

Luka nodded. 'And you are?'

The man pulled out a silver card case and presented an embossed card. 'I'm Erles Nygaard.' Luka took the card and looked at it, noting the mid town address. 'Gee Mister Nygaard; I don't think the world is ready for my art.'

Erles sniffed. 'If it should ever come to pass that you make some, you may drop me a line. I can tell you fairly quickly whether you've got anything or not.'

Luka wasn't sure how to take this. 'I guess you're here about Charlie?'

Erles smiled. 'How direct of you. Yes. Stop harassing her immediately or I shall be very cross.'

It was hard to imagine the dapper little rotund fellow as a threat, so Luka smirked. Erles drew close and pitched up on his toes to make like a tough guy. 'Listen, My good man...' he began, pointing a finger. Luka looked down his nose at Erles. 'Mr Nygaard, if you want to be able to point to anything else this side of thanksgiving, you better take that finger out of my face.'

Erles considered discretion the better part of valour and stepped back a foot, but maintained his high finger advantage.

'Why can't anyone wait until I have had my coffee?' Luka said aloud.

Erles shut his mouth and then reopened with a civilised compromise. 'Fine. We will have coffee.' He threaded and arm through Lukas and pivoted him towards the exit. Before he knew what he was doing, Luka and Erles were walking towards the car park.

-

Good to his word, Erles had remained almost uncannily silent until the coffee had been ordered, paid for and served. He waited until Luka had his first sip whilst daintily picking apart an acceptable cinnamon scroll. 'Sergeant, Charlie means the world to me. Please be straightforward, after all, the Coffee's my treat.' Erles said with a grimace. 'Do you believe Charlie has done something illegal?'

Luka shook his head. 'I checked her and the Good Doctor out.' He whistled. 'Do you know how much of an egghead her husband is?'

'Partner' Erles corrected. 'I don't think they ever married.'

Luka winced somewhere in the back of his mind. 'Yeah? Well, her 'partner' has a string of letters after his name like an alphabet. His picture's still on the MIT website and they published a current paper of his, so no I don't think he's baking crack in the shed.'

'Excellent. Point one closed.' Erles took a bite of his scroll, chewed thoughtfully and said 'Item two. Who do you think wants to hurt Charlie?'

When Luka didn't respond, Erles looked up at him with a 'well?' expression and waved his hands, prompting him.

'Oh. I thought you were going to say something.' Luka sipped more coffee.

'No obfuscation. Who wants to hurt her?' Erles snapped, drawing the attention of two of the other patrons who looked over at them, curiously.

'I'm guessing you don't know much of her history.'

Erles nodded. 'She likes to be mysterious.'

'How'd you two meet?'

'Are we going to avoid answering my question all day?' Erles grumbled.

'Bear with me. It's all part of my investigation.' Luka replied.

'No it's not. You're just abnormally curious, even for a Detective. Speak, damn you.'

'Guys, if you're gonna have a fight, can you take it outside' warned the guy at the counter. Erles smiled nastily but Luka held out a badge, ignoring him. The man at the counter crossed his arms as his other patrons quickly departed. 'Thanks a bunch' he said unhappily.

Luka punched down the last of the coffee. 'You know Vicki's father was mixed up with some pretty crazy folk.'

'I never knew her father. What kind of crazy?'

'The armed, religious kind. You can ask Charlie for the gory details, or ask Dr Phil. I already had this conversation with him.'

Erles reached over and pulled the cup away from Lukas hands. 'No more coffee. You're having this conversation with _me_ now. Pretend I don't know anything.'

Luka looked down at his cup. Erles released it. It was empty, so Luka put it down anyway. 'Dalton, Vicki's father, was killed in Jail by the same gang that Jackson belonged to.'

Erles shrugged. 'Who's Jackson? Michael Jackson?'

'Jackson was the name of the guy who delivered Charlies last load of metal. He was dead maybe three hours later.'

Erles looked up into the heavens, beseeching strength. 'Sergeant, what on earth has this got to do with Charlie being on a hit list?'

'Who told you that?' Luka thought about it for a moment. 'Ah. The Good Doctor.'

Erles nodded. 'Yes. You got him quite riled up, as you might say. Why are you so worried?'

Luka looked away for a moment, speaking softly. 'You ever see a bunch of carrion birds flying around in the fields? The first one you see, you think, hey, it's an eagle or something; wow. Then you drive a few miles on and you see that there's a bunch of them, circling. That's when you stop looking at the bird and start looking for something dead on the ground that they're feeding on.'

Erles shivered at the thought. Luka leaned across the space between them, drawing in closer. 'I get that circling feeling. If it was anyone but Charlie, I would be less worried.'

'But why?' Erles pleaded. 'I just don't see the jump between…'

'Dalton ran guns for them, back even before the gang had officially coalesced. Just when it was a bunch of loners and no hopers. He was killed in jail, assassinated is more like it and I think I know why.'

He had Erles full attention now.

'By my rough calculations, Vicki was born five months after Dalton was killed. I think they were afraid Dalton would cut a deal to be with his family. Maybe she knows something that…'

Erles laughed. 'You have an amazing sense of fantasy. You are making big leaps all over the place. I feel much better now.' Erles started to rise from the table.

Luka growled and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back into the chair. Erles collapsed into it with a soft 'whump' and looked pointedly down his nose at the Sergeant.

'I am not making this shit up. The Brand has been known to target the families of members who stray. Jackson's death, so close to him visiting Charlie, could have been punishment for not doing his assigned job.'

Erles gasped. The man was absolutely serious. They sat, looking at one another, silently.

'I haven't told anyone else about the connection to Dal…to Charlie's husband. They all think I'm chasing this down because of my own old wound.'

Erles shrugged. 'I don't understand.'

Luka leaned back. 'You ever heard of a place called 'Keepers Hill.'

Erles nodded. 'Yes, it's quite famous. Didn't it burn down?'

Luka winced again, holding back the memory. 'That's where Dalton's family were from. That's where a lot of them died.'

'Sergeant, you are leaping again.'

'Oh yeah?' said Luka, angrily. 'I was there too. I saw…I saw…' he stopped. 'Charlie was there too.'

---


	23. Chapter 22

The crowds were bussed into the sports arena grounds and lined up in columns along the main street to disgorge throngs of worshippers. The whole event had a carnival atmosphere. Looking out of the bus window, Vicki saw families walking hand in hand, carrying balloons with crucifixes stencilled into them. Approved vendors were selling Revival T-Shirts and Caps and doing a boisterous trade in religious novelties.

A policeman directing traffic waited for them to slow and the coach driver rolled his window down to ask directions.

'You can't drop off here!' yelled the Policeman, above the noise of traffic.

'These are performers. I gotta gettem inside.' responded the driver.

The policeman blew his whistle and halted oncoming traffic with a wave. 'Take a left and go up to the player's entrance.' The cop explained and blew his whistle.

The bus turned in a lazy arc and rumbled down the street towards a set of gates. Vicki turned back to gaze across the sleepy faces, yawns and stretches of the troupe. She had been so excited she hadn't been able to sleep.

Rufus was snoring with his head on JJ's shoulder. JJ was still intently reading the bible. He hadn't said a word to her during the trip down, just pored over page after page of the New Testament.

Beside her, Josiah woke with a snort. 'Are we here?'

Vicki nodded. 'We're running late.'

Josiah rubbed his face. 'What time is it?'

'Almost 9am.'

'Damnation!' cursed Josiah, then apologised. 'We're on at 11.' Josiah stood and clapped his hands.

'Good morning everybody, we're running a little behind schedule so we're going to have to work quickly and efficiently when we hit the ground. Ronnie, you will find the floor manager and figure out anything that we need to do. Help the boys get their equipment together,'

Ronnie acknowledged with a begrudging nod.

'Vicki, you will take our group to the changing rooms and start getting them ready. I will go to the broadcast area and get the revised schedules and then we'll assemble backstage. Does everybody have their mobile phone switched on? Good. I may need to call you at any time to coordinate. Now, let us pray.'

Josiah knelt in the centre aisle of the bus.

"Dear Lord, your servants humbly beseech you this day to help us in Your work. May we find favour in the singing of songs of your power and goodness. May you guide the hands of JJ, Rufus, Peter, Jim and…' Josiah looked to the heavens, then remembered the name 'and Aki. Amen.'

The troupe was now starting to fidget. 'Amen' they replied and the bus pulled to halt whilst the driver negotiated their way through. Josiah went to the front window and spoke to the toll gate attendant. Vicki made her way down the bus towards JJ, passing Ronnie who gave her a smile, which fell away as she failed to notice it.

She sat down on the edge of the seat opposite JJ and watched him as he read, watching his brows furrowed in concentration, his lips moving occasionally over the words.

Rufus made a particularly loud snore and JJ pushed him away absently with his hand and continued reading. Rufus tried to snuggle with the other side of the seat and was awoken by the cold touch of glass on the side of his face.

"Whoah.' He said. 'We're here already.' He shook himself awake and saw JJ still reading. Rufus peered over the top of the Bible.

'So what _would_ Jesus do?' he asked, innocently. JJ gave him a surly look. Rufus finally noticed Vicki's scrutiny and made a motion of his head towards her. JJ turned to follow his look and Vicki beamed at them.

'Hey!' said JJ.

'What're you reading?' Vicki asked him.

JJ fumbled with the bible. 'Ah. Matthew. Matthew 18:1'

Vicki waited for him to say something else. 'Aren't you excited?' Vicki said, smiling happily. JJ realised he _was_ excited. Even Rufus nodded. 'This is gonna be great!'

JJ looked at Rufus in shock. Rufus looked back at him, wide eyed and open.

'What? Can't I have fun too?'

JJ burst out laughing and Vicki joined in. Their laughter spilled out of the bus as the doors opened and people outside turned to smile.

---

Despite any misgivings they might have held about Josiah DeJean, once he was in motion, he was a formidable force. He cowed each member of the Revival support staff into utter terror with a combination of fast words, confident posture and a shining belief in Destiny. Scary people like that quickly got their way around here. Before they knew it, the bands kit was sherpa'd to the stage by a willing army of support crew, wearing t-shirts coloured by crew role. Under Josiah's constant clapping and hectoring, the gear was set, Ronny was in the control room talking to the Director, the kids were in the dressing room getting made up and Josiah was standing in a tranquil moment of calm at the edge of the field.

'DeJean!' called a voice, shattering his reverie.

A gaggle of portly men in suits were surging towards him, attended by t-shirt wearing flunkies.

'Mr Chairman.' said Josiah, correctly and precisely.

They raced towards one another, both eager to demonstrate their happiness at the reunion and much clasping of hands commenced. 'We were worried that you weren't going to make it' threatened the Chairman, politely.

Josiah favoured him with a zealous grin. 'No sir, I had faith that the Lord would deliver us right on time. That and an all night drive' he said, testing his luck.

It must have been good because the chairman surrounded him with an arm and turned him back into the throng of suits, breaking and scattering them to reform behind them as they walked.

'I got to hand it to you DeJean. That music segment you introduced was nothing short of Genius. We should have been on that music bandwagon years ago. I think you have a real winner with these boys.'

'Thankyou sir!' said Josiah, glowing under the praise.

The group walked through the players' area and up the ramp to the level that connected the corporate boxes to the mezzanine of the sports arena. The chairman led the way into the glass fronted box looking out on row upon row of seats, to the central stage. The last of the cleanup was completed and the stadium waited expectantly for the onrush of believers.

'Just imagine it gentlemen! In less than two hours, this place will be alive with praise!' said the Chairman. He pointed to the banks of tables, chairs and telephones set up right in front of the stage and even now starting to fill with t-shirt wearing Operators.

'Our fund raising crew will be front and centre for the whole show, people will be able to call and give to the lord and see it happening on live TV!' he exclaimed. The men clapped. 'Hallelujah!' they cried.

'We've had a swell of interest since we announced your boys would be out here today.' said Cartwright, the Chairman's favourite assistant. 'Translated into healthy ticket sales.'

The Chairman tapped his watch. 'It's show time.'

The side doors of the stadium snapped open, sending shafts of light to mingle with the sun coming down through the open roof. The flood followed quickly as believers inserted their tokens into the turnstiles at the entrance to salvation and spilled out into the seats.

---

Memphis, in ancient Egypt, was known as the 'That which binds the two lands.' Its modern namesake bound three states by its control of the river and proximity to their borders. It retained something of the mysticism of its ancestor and people would surely agree, if ever asked, that if God rode the Mississippi, he'd harbour in Memphis.

'And now, it's my great privilege to introduce a new face here at KFLM, a young man whose inspirational readings of the Gospel have become known to many of you.'

A great cheer arose from the audience.

The stage manager nudged JJ. 'Time to go.'

JJ gave a frightened look over his shoulder at Rufus and the other band members, waiting with their instruments clutched in their hands.

JJ looked for Vicki. He found her, watching, smiling. He took comfort and stepped out onto the stage.

'JJ Sir!' cried out the MC to thunderous cheers. JJ smiled and stepped over to the microphone. 'Good luck son.' The MC said, handing him the mike.

'It's not Sir.' JJ said. The MC kept a smile on his face, but said quickly under his breath. 'What?'

JJ put a hand over the microphone. 'It's Zimmerman. My names Zimmerman.'

'What the fuck kid, get on with it!' the MC smiled and cursed simultaneously. He gave a wave to the audience and ran for cover.

JJ looked out over the sea of people and shrivelled.

Rufus, waiting in the wings saw the look of panic. 'Oh shit, he's freezing again. Quick,' he said, and started towards the stage. The Stage manager held him back.

'You go out when he introduces you' the Stage manager said, tapping the run sheet.

Rufus looked at him in horror. 'He's dying out there man' he said desperately and tried to push past and a struggle ensued.

JJ was still silent on the stage, looking out over the crowd.

In the control room, people with headsets were chattering animatedly.

Ronny leaned back and grinned. 'Don't sweat it. He does this all the time' he said gleefully watching them start looking for other things to cut to. Shots of the audience. Shots of the telephone operators. Shots of the cross; anything other than the slightly pale looking long haired guy on stage who was being insufferably quiet.

JJ was looking down in front of the stage. Banks of telephone operators were lined up, taking calls. The camera guy on the floor was waving frantically.

JJ seemed to be staring at one operator.

'Yes ma'am, we take visa or MasterCard.' The operator said. JJ could hear it perfectly above the rumble of the crowd.

'Vicki! Help!' yelled Rufus. Vicki strode forward and grabbed the Stage Manager. 'Do I need to tell whoever's in charge that you are to interfering with our production?' Vicki asked.

The Stage manager jumped, as if bitten. 'No! I...' he instantly released Rufus, who shot out like a bolting rabbit, followed by the rest of the band.

The crowd gave a roar as the band reached the stage. Rufus ran up beside JJ and grabbed the Mike.

'Good Morning Memphis, YEAH!' Rufus yelled.

The crowd roared a response back.

JJ was still staring at the operators.

In the control booth, the Director was talking to the camera crew.

'That's it, he's drawing attention to the donation lines, use it. Run the graphic now!'

'My friend JJ here has been reading the bible. Anyone here read the bible?' Rufus asked.

The resulting whoop from the crowd roared around them.

Rufus was in his element. 'You know what? He's even made _me_ start reading the bible!' he clapped JJ on the shoulder, drawing him closer. 'I used to think it was silly.'

'No!' roared the crowd.

'Oh yes!' said Rufus, milking it. 'But my friend here, JJ, he showed me what it was about.'

The crowd cheered their approval. 'Are you ready to hear some music?' They cheered again. Rufus nudged JJ. 'Dude, wake up, we're on!'

Rufus plugged his guitar in and hit a chord. The rest of the band were eager to play and followed him into the first song. They settled into the first bar and held it.

JJ just stood there.

Rufus put the microphone back on the stand. 'Sing JJ, sing!' he shouted. When JJ remained motionless, Rufus gathered him up in his arm and pulled him closer to the microphone. 'I think JJ's a little nervous, let's help him get in the mood. Sing JJ, sing' Rufus chanted.

Soon the crowd picked it up. 'Sing JJ, sing. Sing, JJ, sing.' They called and clapped. 'Sing, JJ, sing.'

JJ's concentration was broken and he suddenly found himself on a stage in front of thousands of people with a microphone and a band playing behind him.

He looked across the stage and saw that Vicki was watching him. She came towards the edge of the stage, stopping just before she became visible to the audience. Her mouth was moving. He realised she was chanting too. 'Sing, JJ, sing.'

And so JJ turned back to the body of the faithful and JJ sang.

-

Inside the glass fronted corporate box, Josiah toasted the performance with the members of the Evangelical Ministries association.

'Real fine music' said one.

-

Vicki watched the audience as JJ sang and the band played. They held their arms up and swayed with the music. She felt bursting with Joy.

The stage manager gently approached her. 'Is he going to give a reading?'

Vicki nodded. 'I think so.'

-

As the first song died away, the applause was thunderous. The guys in the band were grinning, especially Rufus. JJ was watching them, rather than looking out to the audience. Rufus nodded towards the crowd. 'JJ, for crying out loud, they want you to speak to _them,_ not us!'

JJ nodded. 'Er Hi.' He said into the microphone. 'My name's JJ.'

The crowd roared back. 'Hi JJ.'

He smiled. 'I'm sorry, I was a bit lost for words before. I guess I never imagined we'd play in front of so many people. We're really grateful to be here.'

The crowd cheered again. Calls of 'Praise the lord.'

JJ looked back to the side of the stage, uncertain again. Vicki pointed to microphone and made a speaking gesture. JJ looked around and realised that he did not have his bible.

'I'm sorry' he said into the microphone. 'They asked me to read a section of scripture today, but I left my bible in the bus.'

'Aww' called the audience

-

'What is he doing?' asked the Director, looking at Ronny.

Ronny continued to twist the knife. 'You just never know.'

-

'He forgot his bible' guffawed one of the Ministry men.

'DeJean, you get that boy a Bible!' snapped the Chairman.

Josiah dropped his drink and ran for the door.

-

Vicky looked frantically around for a bible. The stage manager searched frantically as well.

-

Rufus walked over to the microphone and leaned in. 'He's just teasing you folks. He knows it by heart!'

A great cry went up. JJ looked at Rufus. 'What are you doing?'

'Aw come on JJ, you _do_ know it by heart, at least half of it anyway. Just pick a bit and speak it.'

Rufus stepped aside and the stadium grew quiet.

'I'll...' JJ started to speak and found himself once again drawn to the rows of telephone operators. He started to speak.

'Once upon a time, a great man came into Jerusalem and he sought the house of God in order to pray, but at the temple, he found people buying and selling, changing money.' JJ took the microphone and stepped towards the front of the stage.

-

'What is he doing?' said the Director nervously.

-

'What is he doing?' asked the Chairman, querulously.

-

JJ hopped down from the stage and walked amongst the rows of telephone operators. They continued working as he walked amongst them. The sound of their calls filtered through JJ's open microphone.

'And he said to them, "this is the house of my father, called by all nations a place of prayer"' JJ walked up to the operator who had captured his attention. 'Yet you have made it a den of thieves!' he screamed and seized the end of the table, flipping it over.

The operator fell backwards from her chair and stared up as the lunatic JJ frenziedly seized the chairs and tables and hurled them about. The operators began to stampede.

-

'Cut to the graphics!' yelled the Director

-

'Jesus Christ!' blasphemed the Chairman.

-

The stage manager stood absolutely still as the carnage unfolded. People in the front rows were cheering as the telephone operators swarmed over the railings and into their laps.

'The Kingdom of Heaven is free to anyone who will believe!' yelled JJ through the microphone. 'It doesn't take Visa or MasterCard, God doesn't want your money; He wants your faith!'

The crowd screamed in exultation, surging around JJ and over the barricade.

Josiah DeJean rushed to stand beside Vicki as JJ was enveloped by the cheering audience.

'It's the word of God' Vicki said simply.


	24. Chapter 23

Only the central corridors were lit during the night shift. Everything else was set to dimmers or motion sensors that opened wells of light ahead of wandering staff.

Steve grimaced as each one sparked up in front of him. This was a downright nuisance. After a few moments of walking, the building control computer determined his path and lit the whole corridor in subdued one-person-only lighting. When it brightened considerably Steve stepped back into a doorway from sheer force of habit. One of the computer techs was taking a coffee break, heading for the kitchenette. She looked up at the lighting.

'Greg?' she called out.

Steve rolled his eyes and muttered 'crap' over and over in his mind. He stepped out from the doorway with a slightly cheesy grin and tried to remember her name.

'Hi…Yiam isn't it?'

The girl gave a start, but recovered swiftly. 'Oh, Hi Steve. I didn't see you there; I thought Greg was coming in tonight.'

Steve smiled. 'Nope, it's just little old me. You want some coffee?' he said, moving towards her. She didn't step back all the way and let him brush past her. 'Yes please.'

Steve excused himself and led the way into the kitchenette. He flipped the loading door on the automatic espresso machine and popped in a pouch of coffee.

'That thing scares me' Yiam confessed.

Steve nodded. 'I know what you mean.'

An ominous hisisng and bubbling issued from the elegantly appointed plastic device. Yiam jumped in with the coffee cups before the machine started to vent coffee.

'Oops.' Steve said.

Yiam smiled at him. 'It's the escaping steam thing.' She shuddered.

The coffee machine clicked and whirred and stopped with a sharp snap as it determined enough had been served. Yiam took her cup gratefully.

Steve watched her as she added water from the permanent-boil tap. 'You pulling an all-nighter?' Steve asked, taking his own cup.

Yiam nodded. 'Uh huh. It's not quite as hectic as it was a few weeks back. Sometimes I think I'm just here to keep the machines company…' She was smiling. Steve became aware of it when her smile remained a fraction of a second longer than was appropriate for casual intercourse. 'Is she flirting with me?' he wondered. Part of him thought 'hot damn!' The tradecraft compartments of his mind thought something else entirely.

'So' he said, smoothly. 'What else do you do for fun at night?'

---

Yiam settled into the chair again, feeling slightly tingly. Steve was tall. She liked tall. She was also amazed at herself for engaging in conversation with him. Whatever it was he actually did, 'project officer' was a disingenuous title. A 'Project officer' who carried a hint of steel and leather under his arm, and who had virtually no clue as to how to work in a high tech environment. Yeah, right. He hadn't even been able to get his card-swiper to work. If she hadn't been there, he might have been locked out of his office all night. Just think!

Fortunately, she knew Greg's system password from one to many nights spent accidentally watching him type it, and she was able to reset the access, no problems. Steve had thanked her with a big smile and a squeeze on her shoulder in gratitude.

Even now she could feel his hand's imprint on her arm. 'Oh well' she thought. 'A girl can dream.'

---

Knocking out the rest of the surveillance was a snack compared to getting past the access points. Steve approached the airlock doors and dusted down the PIN pad. He shone a fluorescent light onto it and noted the impressions. There was only one set. He made a few mental notes on the impression and speed of the finger marks. He took a stab at it and got it on the second go. The airlock hissed open and he stepped into the room and sealed the door shut behind him.

It took a few minutes to get into the protective gear and then he opened the next airlock door and stepped into the flushing chamber. A moment later, the air cycled through and he stepped into the cold room.

The Bed was up against the far wall. Steve lifted each foot carefully, as if walking in space. He approached the Bed, its dark contents rippling below the waterline. There was a chair at the side of the Bed, right where Kathy would sit with the man on her regular visits.

Steve could see two bright white orbs where the occupants head would be.

'Hey.' Steve called out. 'How you doing? My name's Steve. I'm gonna sit a spell.'

Steve turned the chair around and plunked down on it, resting his arms on the chairs backrest.

'Quis custodiet ipso custodes?' he said, whistling as he made out the scars and crags of the mans body. 'Boy, they told me, but until I saw it… Wow.'

The occupant remained silent.

'What, you only talk to the ladies?' Steve joked. 'Ok, let's not worry about forming a trust relationship. Let's just make a deal, huh? Spook to spook.'

The occupant shifted a little in the tank.

'I've read your file Major. You're one bad-ass dude, no foolin'. You've been dangling a carrot in front of the Director for a while now and it'd give me a woody if you'd just fill me in.'

The dark thing in the tank coughed and spluttered. Was it laughter?

Steve decided that it was. 'Knew that would appeal. Used to say that at back at Fort Bragg, didn't they? Everything gave you a woody.'

Was there a stillness settling in? Was this the emotional signal he needed? Steve pressed on. 'Bottom line. I want to know what you've got; you want something the Director doesn't want to give you; I don't give a shit. I'm just looking to trade. What is it you want?'

'The girl.' said a thick voice.

Steve shook his head. 'Specifics Major, Specifics.'

The white orbs blazed brightly in the darkness. 'Charrrrlliee' it wheezed.

Outwardly, Steve remained motionless. The clean-suit helped conceal his features and even within that mask lay another, crafted from his own flesh. It didn't register a damn thing; he was too well trained.

Inwardly, he felt yawing sensation.Steve realised the elevator had descended way down below the basement and it _was_ a cold day in hell.

---

Now connected to #Admin

Santanna: hello

Santanna: hello

Xorbitant: what?

Santanna: is egads here?

Scum001: lol n00b check the list in your client

Santanna:-(

Pork12: lol

Xorbitant: egads will bbl. You need support?

Santanna: no

Pork12: anyone got the last ep of south park?

Scum001: pm ffs

Santanna: when will egads be back?

Xorbitant: try again later, dude. If you need support, you can go to #unisupport or #techsupport, or call the help desk

Santanna: it's about some files

Santanna has quit – (kicked by Scum001: learn some discretion fool)

_Private Message from Xorbitant_

Xorbitant: Egads is on holidays. What did you want?

Santanna: he had some data for me. are you his friend?

Xorbitant: were all friends here

Santanna: he gave me a paypal account and it's all been done

Xorbitant: that's nice for you

Santanna: can you give him that message?

Xorbitant: whatever

Santanna: thanyou

_Private Message From Xorbitant_

Xorbitant: wtf r u doin w/pp acct & file d/l

Xorbitant:…

Xorbitant:…

Xorbitant:…

Xorbitant: FKN answer!

Egads: keep ur shrt on

Xorbitant: u asshole

Egads: researcher wants copy of some packets, thats all

Xorbitant: bs. this is from my frickin mirror fool. dont mess with me

Egads: traced back via routers, their just running bigass webcrawler. direct pipe into G-----. interesting. Lots of data mining.

Xorbitant: also talking to darpa and dod nets. i looked at traceroutes too so dont bs me anymore or I switch off ur access.

Egads: Noooooo! I beg

Xorbitant: Y u playing with fire? U want to get it up the ass in jail?

Egads: why are you on my case?

Xorbitant: cos its serious shit dude. This isn't for script kiddies, this is black hat 101 and Op1 would drive over to your moms house and punch you in the face for this.

Egads: allrightallrightalready. Will blow it off. Cant read data anyway. Shame.

Xorbitant: y?

Egads: 10K in account :-)

Xorbitant: no shit?

Egads:-)


	25. Chapter 24

The middle school had been built in a time of concrete and asphalt and looked like a bigger, uglier brother to the smaller and sweeter brick buildings of the junior school.

John Redman walked into the administration building and met a helpful little old dear with thick, myopia-proof glasses.

'Oh no dear' she said. 'We don't do any of that down here; it's all in central administration now.'

'Thanks' John said, smiling at her. 'but maybe you could help me anyway.'

She blinked at him. 'Enrolments aren't for a few months yet, unless you need to transfer…'

John shook his head. 'No, I wasn't trying to enrol someone; I wanted to see if I could track down a friend of mine. She used to go to school here a long time ago.'

The old lady adjusted her glasses to bring him into focus, curious now. 'You're definitely going to have to talk to administration. We have policies about releasing student information.'

'I understand. It's just kind of a touchy subject. My friend…she moved away after...after something happened.'

The old lady blinked again. 'Mister, I have work to do.' She began fussing with the papers on her desk.

'Please.' John said, putting his hand over hers.

She poked him in the wrist with a pencil. John grabbed his hand away.

'No touching' she said, waving the pencil. 'No touching allowed. Do I have to call security?'

John gave it one last try. 'Her mom was a teacher here, she died at the lake.'

The old lady put the pencil down and sighed, sagging a little. 'Mrs Putnam. She had a daughter, but she didn't go to school here.'

'You knew Mrs Putnam?' John said, seizing the opportunity.

The old lady smiled. 'Yes, I knew Deb. She was a terrific teacher. I…' her mouth snapped shut and she picked up the phone and started to dial. 'Hello security?' she said into the phone. John raised his hands in submission, said 'thankyou' and started for the door.

---

Central Administration almost called the Police. John had to scarper before he raised the ire of defensive public servants. It left him with no option but to resort to basic techniques. He walked back to the truck and drove to a fast food parking lot.

He flipped open his notebook and found the number for the local library.

The line rang and was answered with a slight southern drawl. 'Kin ah help you?'

'Yes, I was wondering, do you have copies of local papers going back aways?' John responded, slipping into a similar pattern.

'No, you'da have to git them frum the aw-fice of the paper.'

'Thankyou kindly' John replied and hung up.

It took him a few more calls to locate the Register and ask for access to the files.

$50 and a jacket got him entrée to the archives. The archivist was a bright freckle faced young thing who goggled up at him.

'What are you looking for?' she asked helpfully.

John leaned against the counter. 'I'm looking for information on a school tragedy about twenty years ago, a drowning.'

The archivist nodded. 'Yeah, local legend.'

John cocked an eyebrow. 'You know about it? Could save me a little digging.'

She shrugged. 'Bit before my time, but as I recall…a teacher took her class on an unplanned excursion to the lake and all of them drowned. Wait a moment and I'll pull up the indexes. Some of our archives are on Microfiche, but if you're lucky…' she tapped a key. 'Bingo! This is on the scanned records so you can just sit over there' she said, pointing to chair, table and computer, 'and I'll log you in.'

John nodded his thanks and walked over to the chair. He sat down as the archivist switched the screen on and tapped in a few codes. 'Here you go. Enjoy!' she said with a smile and left him to read.

The headline read 'Community Mourns School Drownings'. John read through the article. A small class had gone on a nature walk with their Teacher and nine of them had wound up floating in the lake. The police speculated that a student may have fallen into the water and that the Teacher, Mrs Deborah Putnam, had drowned whilst trying to rescue them. Inset into the article was an image of the class assembled with their teacher, all smiling into the lens for school photo day. It was a small class of happy young things standing against a backdrop of the brick wall and a board at their feet that read 'Class 1c'.

Underneath the group photo was a list of the children's names, left to right.

John looked at the picture of the children and their teacher. He could see Cassie's genetic inheritance from her mother, but Cassie's face had the soft droop of long held sadness. Her mother, on the other hand, looked as bubbly and bright as could be.

Something about the list bothered him and John began to count the names and then counted the faces. There was one more child in the photo than listed in the text below it. They hadn't _all_ drowned.

---

Vanessa waved to Mrs Johns and tottered the last few feet to her car, feeling her feet complaining after being committed to the confines of her shoes again. She liked to kick them off in the afternoon, especially if her ankles were swelling and only put them back on to avoid the sharp little stones that littered the parking lot.

An owl hooted from a nearby tree and she stopped to look for it. Unusual to be out so early. She couldn't see anything in the twilight, so she readjusted her glasses and looked around. Whatever had made the noise had disappeared in the intervening period, but she saw something else that made her stop in her tracks. Someone was standing by her car, the strange man from earlier.

He stepped away from the car. 'I just wanted to ask one question.' he called to her.

Vanessa considered running or yelling for help, but the parking lot was empty and no one would be coming in until the judo classes that rented the gymnasium at 6. Her feet were complaining anyhow. She set her face into her best Kid Frightening grimace and stepped forward briskly.

'Young man, I have already told you…'

He nodded. 'I know. I'm really sorry, but it's important. Just one question.'

Vanessa reached her car and put the keys in the door. He had stepped away to provide plenty of space and she felt she had his measure. 'If you had any legitimate reason to ask, you would have got your answer by now.' She opened the door and stepped into the car, only moments away from freedom.

His hand closed around the doorframe, stopping it before it shut. He hunkered down on his haunches, eye level with her. 'They didn't all drown. One child survived.'

Vanessa looked at his earnest expression. 'You don't want to find Cassie.'

John shook his head. 'I know Cassie. I know her pretty well, you might say. She…she took me to the lake. I just thought maybe it would help her, if…' John paused. 'She thinks her mother committed suicide.'

Vanessa gasped. 'She did no such thing. Deborah wasn't like that. Do you really know Cassie? Or is this just another lie?'

'She works in a Day Spa at the R---- hotel. She's blond, pretty and sad. Very sad.'

Vanessa released her hold on the keys. 'What's this got to do with…'

John shrugged. 'I'm trying to get a little closure. For some reason, it just seems to be the right thing to do. If I could talk to the kid that survived, maybe it would shed some light on things.'

'She would have been a baby back then. The police questioned her until her mother threatened to sue the school, the police and anyone else. Good for her I say. It was a horrible tragedy and that's all it was. There's no use in raking over old coals. I'm sorry that Cassie is still affected by it, I can't say I blame her, but I am not going to inflict any more pain on people who would probably rather forget. Now let go of my blessed door or I will run you over.' Vanessa said with finality.

John released the door and the little old lady pulled away with a screech of tires.

It was a 'she'.

John returned to his truck and looked at the printout. He looked back at the Administration building and began to pack his tools.

---

John followed the gaggle of Judogi clad kids in through the main entrance. He waited until they cleared the hallway and then headed for the stairs.

The administration block was dormant until the next morning but was protected by blinking motion and Infrared sensors. John cursed silently and re-thought his plan. He walked back down the stairs and straight into a group of waiting parents.

'Hi' he murmured, walking through them. The parent watched him with radar-like tracking of their heads. 'Is this the judo class?' he asked, establishing a quick alibi.

One of the mothers nodded. 'Are you the substitute teacher?'

John looked blankly at her for a moment.

'Ah.'

'I'm Ted' said a burly Father. 'My boy's Robert.'

One by one the parents introduced themselves and their offspring. John looked for a way out. A lone security guard was walking down the corridor, checking the locks on rooms.

John clapped the Father on the back. 'Why don't we go in and get these guys doing some warm up exercises.'

---

The Judo teacher found his class practising their Shisei. A tall man was stepping around the students, touching them here and there, settling them into the correct posture and giving warm encouragements. Mr Tedesi watched the man work and noted his graceful movements. 'He's must have fantastic Ju no Kata' he thought to himself. He stopped at the edge of the man and waited to catch the mysterious masters' attention. He responded with an embarrassed grin and stepped over. Mr Tedesi bowed and the man bowed in reply, just a fraction lower than the teachers bow.

'Sorry about this, the parents were getting kind of anxious so I thought I'd just…'

Mr Tedesi shook his head. 'Please, it's an honor to receive a master into the class. You've really got them moving well, I'm impressed. Where do you teach?'

John smiled. 'I don't. The parents thought I was a substitute teacher and I didn't have the heart to tell them I wasn't.'

Mr Tedesi looked over at the smiling faces of the parents. 'Well my friend, you have spared me from getting grilled by the Judo Mom's for running late. I'm Joe, Joe Tedesi.'

'John Redman' John replied. They shook hands.

Joe looked around. 'I'd be honoured if you would stay and finish the class with us.' He leaned in quietly. 'It would also make it look like we had this planned, if you know what I mean.'

'I kind of don't have the right gear…'

Joe smiled. 'We can live with that for the day; you've already done wonders with the kids, so stick around.'

John nodded. Joe clapped his hands.

'Students, we are fortunate to have Master Redman with us today, this is going to be a great session. Everybody partner up.'

---

The parents waved over their shoulders as the children began to file out. John waved goodbye. Joe was towelling his hair down.

'Are you _sure_ you don't teach?' Joe asked.

John shook his head again. 'I know some bits and pieces from people I've seen, but I've never had formal training.'

'Never would have guessed.' Joe said, offering a spare towel. 'You sure seemed to know what you were doing.'

John took it and dried himself off. 'It's not hard to see what you wanted them to do. I just followed your logic.'

Joe looked at him in sheer amazement. 'Do you mind if I try something?'

'Sure. What?'

Joe stepped back onto the mat. 'You say you've never had any training. Come out here.'

John followed him out onto the mat.

'Ok, so we did some Kata tonight, you remember those moves? Right, I want you to spar with me.'

'Whoa there Bruce Lee' John said, raising his hands.

Joe laughed. 'If I'm right, you won't feel a thing. Now I am going to throw some punches and I want you to only use the moves you saw tonight.'

With blinding speed Joe feinted at Johns head. John reacted with a Kami-Ate. Joe threw everything he had into a combination of attacks, the last of which brought him to the floor. He rolled to his feet and laughed outrageously.

John watched him, slightly uncertain as to what was going on.

Joe ran over and clapped him on the shoulder. 'You've got Ura-Waza my friend, like I haven't seen before. Plus what appears to be a photographic memory.'

John thought about it for a moment. 'Maybe just an eye for detail.'

Joe nodded. "I'd guess from your stance that you've obviously fought, probably not in tournaments. You ought to think about doing some tournament stuff. With a bit of practise, you could be very good at this.'

'Thanks, some of the things you taught me tonight may come in handy.'

Joe started to pack up his gear. 'I never asked you how you wound up in here tonight.'

John looked at him. 'Truthfully? I was trying to break into the administration wing to get a class list.'

Joe's mouth gaped open and he stopped packing his bag. 'I thought you were a parent or something. Holy shit. I hope you're not into little kids because I'm worried about being able to kick your ass...'

John shook his head. 'No no no. Nothing like that. I'm trying to track someone down who used to go to school here _twenty years ago_.'

Joe looked relieved. 'Ok, so they're over the age of consent at least. What are you, a private eye or something? Is it an adoption case?'

'Missing persons' John demurred.

Joe considered it. 'Well. I _do _have a pass key, but I can't help you do anything illegal… but I suppose I could let you into the library. They keep school yearbooks there.'

John grinned. 'Great!'

'One condition.'

'What?'

Joe put his bag down and started to unpack it. 'How using that eye for detail on my Kata?' he said earnestly. 'I've got a grading coming up and I think you might be the thing to get me over the line.'

---

Later that night, John Redman sat alone in his hotel room with removable table lamps. The bed was covered in papers, notes and photographs.

An article from a local newspaper.

A school yearbook photo.

A name: Vicki Wainright.

The printout from an online birth record.

Born Vicki Wainright to Charlie Manders and Dalton Wainright.

A page from a long past issue Rolling Stone.

A picture of a young girl.

The mother as a child.

The source

Charlie.

From the left, he had assembled the first links in his chain and he meditated and shuffled them, waiting for a picture to emerge.

When nothing came, he ordered a bottle of scotch, two cigars and gathered up his paperwork. He sealed the papers into airtight plastic pouches and stripped down.

This called for heavier medicine.

-

Wearing a towel and with cigar clenched in his teeth, he greeted the bewildered couple walking down the hallway. The woman's gaze followed him to the elevator until her partner dragged her back towards their room, scowling.

John nodded amiably to the fully clothed folks who were in the elevator and rode down to the pool level. He walked around the pool, following the signs to the Sauna, set into a wooden façade on a wall opposite the showers. John heaped his items on the floor beside the door, located the temperature controls and ratcheted them way up until the sauna was venting steam. Another guest in a towel walked over and looked at the room, starting to give off waves of heat through the glass. He smiled at John.

'I'll come back later' he said. John smiled in return, opened the scotch, gathered up the cigars and sealed plastic notes and entered the sweat room.

-

There was a forest, an old forest and within it grew a poisonous tree. It blossomed heavy with scented flowers in the spring and it attracted many animals who would smell the delightful aroma from many miles away. They came to the tree and were entranced by it, forgetting their lives and cares. They lingered too long at the tree, forgetting hunger and thirst, until they died. The tree would hold their bones to itself and feed upon their remains.

In Autumn, it bore bright red fruit that was sweet and juicy. The birds would come and eat the fruit, but they would carry the seeds away only to die when the poison ate through them. They would fall to the ground and the seed would nourish itself amongst their bones until it too grew into a beautiful tree, heavy with scented flowers.

-

Charlie had shifted the Flame to the rear of the barn now. A little more polishing and she'd be satisfied. She said that to herself knowing that she would never be satisfied, but something in her was crying out to try the copper and steel together.

She didn't know what to do with it, but something about the gleaming pile of metal set her thoughts to coming up with an idea and decided it was time for an inspiration break.

The house was empty but open, as it always was when Phil was in the field. He was up to something and there were no two ways about it. He had that little frown in the corner of his mouth sometimes, so he was up to no good.

Charlie went to the fridge and viciously finished off the last of his lemonade. _That_ would teach him to keep secrets.

The house had the stillness of late afternoon upon it. A cheap plastic clock ticked loudly in the silence. The light was filtered through speckles of dust, each mote picking up the light and giving a glorious ambience to the house that could only be fixed by a proper vacuuming and an airing. Charlie realised she had neglected her cleaning and went to work to open and air the place out.

She was opening the windows to the porch when she saw someone walking down the driveway. She smiled. 'I drank all your lemonade and I don't care one little bit!' she called out cheekily. The figure waved to her and she opened the front door and returned to the cleaning.

She heard his footfall on the floorboards and looked up, still holding a cushion from the lounge chair. 'Hey Darlin' I…'

He voice fell away as she looked at her visitor. He was as tall as Phil, but thinner, more greyhound like. He had long hair flowing down his back. He was smiling _(tiger!) _at her. His teeth were _(burning bright!)_ made all the whiter in contrast against the red _(in the forests of the night!) _of his skin. His name was John.

'My name is John' he said.

Charlie released the cushion from her hand and faced the tiger. She smiled brilliantly at him. _'John. I knew you'd come for me.' _She said.

-

The Mander farm was an old rusting place with a bright shiny new padlock on the gate. Someone had decided recently that they didn't want to be disturbed. Despite the lack of clarity of his visions the night before, John had made excellent time in tracking down the name this morning. No phone was registered to the house and no Mander was listed, but it seemed everyone in town knew where the old Mander place was. The Mander Farm label sold exotic fruit to the locals, fruit that wasn't normally grown in this region. Something about the place seemed to keep it a little warmer than the surrounding country.

John hopped the fence and walked through the fields. Over a rise he could see the humps of space-age looking poly-tunnels. Someone was growing high tech out in the fields. John scanned the horizon and found it empty of people, so he walked up the path to the main house.

A figure in the window called out to him, but he couldn't hear them, so he trotted up to the porch. The door was open so he stepped inside. A woman with scarlet red hair was bending over her couch, humming to herself whilst plumping up a cushion.

He cleared his throat and she stood up, looking at him. Something in the way that she looked at him made him think they knew each other.

Some hint of recognition.

He smiled. 'My name's John.' He said. This was going well, until her expression changed and John suddenly knew things were very wrong.

'I knew you'd come for me' she said and the world began to burn.

John knew now what Joe had meant by the Ura-Waza; The sense of anticipating your opponents move and knowing how to counter them. This woman was his opponent, for some unknown reason. She was about to strike him, somehow without even moving.

John was rolling for the space beside the couch before conscious thought had processed 'why'?

The couch was on fire. She was standing in the centre of all things, a corona radiating out from her, scouring everything it touched with bright flame. John's hair was on fire. He was up and running with the hot wind pressed against his back and the lighting flashes of pain from his head where the hair burnt to the scalp. He burst through the open door of the house pursued by a jet of flame, as if the space he had occupied had exploded. He hit the dirt beside the porch and rolled, trying to extinguish his clothes. The porch exploded outward and he could see back into the house. She was walking calmly forward, almost gliding as flames roared about her. The heat was intense, making him look away. He scrambled to find purchase on the dirt. She stepped onto the burning porch and fixed him with her gaze. 'You shouldn't have come back John.' She said. 'I control _it_ now.'

John stared at her in terror. 'Lady, please don't kill me' he yelled over the roaring of the flames. 'Don't kill me!'

-

Charlie had him begging for his life. He was going to pay now, pay for…

'Please don't kill me, I have never met you before, I swear' the man was babbling

He was burned, his long hair singed away. He was in the dirt, begging. He was terrified.

'Oh my god' Charlie mumbled. Tears sprang from her eyes. 'Oh my God.'

She ran down to him, the fury suddenly snuffed out. He recoiled and tried to wriggle away. 'You're burned.' She said. 'Don't move, let me check you over.'

He remained motionless as she quickly examined him. Nothing over 1st degree, and she knew her burns. She hadn't wanted him to die, she had wanted him to know she had control now, except…except this wasn't 'him.' This was some poor asshole with that same smile, but the eyes. They were different.

Small flames were still burning on his clothing and she willed them into nothing.

'Your house.' He said, looking over her shoulder.

Charlie looked back and saw Cynthia's pride and joy collapsing on itself. She sighed, drawing the hunger of the flames away from the remains of the house and willing them to stillness. 'Oh crap' she thought, realising she'd probably just freaked out her visitor again, but she looked down and saw she needn't have worried. He had fallen unconscious.

Charlie knelt down beside the charred doppelganger from her dreams, down beside the wounded tiger and the burned house, while smoke from a funeral pyre winged up to bloom beneath the clouds.


	26. Chapter 25 interlude

The Sergeant looked at the earnest young man in front of him. 'Son, you've made a mistake here.' he said, pointing to the form.

'No Staff Sergeant.' The young man replied.

The Sergeant scratched his head. 'No son, you're not hearing me, I think you made a _mistake_.'

Dalton took the paper back and looked at it. Under the section marked 'spouse' he had meticulously filled in the correct details and even double checked the spelling.

'No Staff Sergeant, it's all correct.' He said and tried to hand the paper back.

The Sergeant took it and placed in on the table between them. He smiled knowingly. 'Private First Class Wainright, if the Corps wanted you to have a wife, they would have issued you with one.'

Dalton blinked, not understanding. The Staff Sergeant sighed. 'Son, you've only been out a few months. When did you get married?'

'This Morning, Staff Sergeant. My CO said if I reupped, he'd post me to Boblingen, Staff Sergeant.'

'Hold your horses there son. Let's just take it back a notch, shall we. You got married _this_ morning?"

Dalton grinned. 'Yes Staff Sergeant. I surely did.'

The Staff Sergeant shook his hand. 'Congratulations PFC Wainright. Now go home.'

Daltons face dropped in amazement. 'Staff Sergeant?'

The Staff Sergeant had lost all trace of humour in his face. 'Marine, you will spend the next five years anywhere you're goddamn posted, with or without your wife. I am ordering you to go home, spend a week with your new bride and report back here first thing next Monday morning. In the meantime, your application papers will be delayed until you fix your _mistake_. Are we clear?'

Dalton stood up and saluted. The Staff Sergeant stood and saluted in reply. 'Go on; get the hell out of here Kid.' he said with a smile. 'Dismissed!'

---

Charlie stared at her wedding ring. It was still a little lopsided. She gently smoothed it with her fingers and felt the gold move a little, warming. She had already remodelled it three times and it was still novel. The purity was a little low, but it was the thought that counted. She smiled to herself. Anyway, it wasn't Daltons fault if he couldn't tell 14 karat from 18 Karat. Charlie could though, and she'd pay a visit to the pawnbroker and see what she could do. Taking money from trusting young men was naughty. Maybe some of the jewellery in his shop would melt.

Dalton emerged from the street level office with a bewildered expression on his face. She sighed inwardly, but smiled at him as best she was able.

'So' she asked as he reached the car. Dalton leaned down and kissed her through the window.

'They want me back, but not for a week.' Dalton explained, opening the door and forcing her away from the wheel. He clambered in and Charlie hugged him. She leaned against him, holding him.

'Where to, Mrs Wainwright?' Dalton asked, waiting for her usual response. Charlie just squeezed him back and ignored him. Dalton started up the truck and they began to drive back towards the farm.

'Don't call me that, it makes me sound like your mother' Charlie eventually complained. Dalton smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

Charlie looked at the ring on his finger. It was lopsided too.

'We don't have to rush back. Lets just drive around for a while' Charlie said.

---

Ben had a simple plan. They would build a new house, somewhere at the edge of the farm near the road so utilities would be cheaper to connect. With Daltons help, he could get a frame up in a jiffy. He looked around his old farm, across the rows of canola plants, imagining. Somewhere inside the house, Cynthia was singing to herself. Ben could hear the occasional jangled note as she warbled country tunes in time with the radio. In this moment, he felt the great blessing of life stretching out in front of him, like the long open road back when he was a teamster.

Farming. He snorted out a laugh. How the hell had he wound up digging in the dirt? How had he wound up with a wife, a farm, a daughter and now a son-in-law?

Ben saw the dust trail of a vehicle coming down the road. The kids were coming back now, no, not kids. Man and Wife. Ben felt everything around him was pouring into himself, fixing him to this spot on the earth, this _right_ place to be. In the spring, he knew the sounds of a baby's laughter would float across these fields. He had a sense of it. It made him reflect that he was the luckiest son-of-a-bitch alive.

The dust was rising around the approaching vehicle. Ben smiled and went to greet them.

---

Dalton skipped stones across the lake while Charlie lay on the embankment and watched the clouds. An early duck squawked its unhappiness as Dalton sped another missile by it.

Charlie was just staring up at the sky, her face open and relaxed. Dalton had to mess with it. He ran over and jumped on her, landing half on her, half on the embankment. Charlie groaned as he wriggled around, trying to get comfortable. 'ow ow, Dal, watch my boobs!' she said, as a little too much friskiness made her wince.

This seemed to put him in mind of something else, but Charlie wasn't, so she fended off his overt groping and rolled away. 'I like this place.' She said.

Dalton propped himself up on one arm. 'Never came by here much.'

Charlie stood up and walked to the waters edge. 'It freezes over in winter. It's good to have a large body of water near.'

Dalton wasn't sure where she was going with this. 'ok…'

'I used to come down here sometimes. When I needed to…' Charlie stopped. 'We have to talk about this Dalton.'

Dalton sat up, serious. 'Why?'

'Because it's part of who I am.'

Dalton scowled. 'Goddamit you just married me! Why do we have to talk about this _now_?'

Charlie looked back out over the lake. 'Because. Because you ran away.'

Dalton got to his feet. 'Aw come on Charlie. Cut me some slack. I wasn't running from you. I was, I was just _running_.' He put his arms around her.

Charlie looked into his eyes. 'Dal, some of what your father said was right.'

Dalton let her go and scowled. 'Screw Isaiah. I don't care what he thinks.'

'But you do care. He thinks that I'm a witch and I'll destroy your soul'

Dalton shook his head. 'What's got into you Charlie?'

Charlie wondered that herself. She looked away. 'I don't know. I'm sorry.'

Dalton picked up another stone and skimmed it across the water. 'I know what you can do. I've known it since way back when. I don't think you're the devil. I don't understand it, butI ain't scared. I ain't gonna live scared of nobody anymore.'

Charlie stepped into the protective lee at the side of his body and nestled against him. 'I'm just always afraid that the people who did this are going to come back, that something will happen.' She said.

Dalton drew her underneath his arm. 'We're going to go to Germany, live in shitty married couple's quarters. You're gonna learn to speak Dutch, or German or whatever and teach somewhere or something. We're going to lead perfectly ordinary lives.'

'What about your family?' she asked, wanting to believe him.

Dalton looked out across the lake. 'Isaiah won't live forever,' he said with a hint of resignation, 'Or I could kill him myself'

Charlie smacked him, pulling away. 'Dalton!' she said.

He was grinning. 'Or I could get my fire breathing wife to do it for me!' he added

Charlie wasn't laughing. 'I killed a lot of fish in this lake you know. Sometimes, when it got really bad, I'd need to put it somewhere safe. Used to make the water boil. When it was winter, the ice would crack and groan and one time, it just exploded everywhere. Almost broke my nose on a flying piece of it.'

Dalton looked at her unwaveringly. 'So you can come ice fishing with me in winter' he suggested.

'Why do you have to make everything a joke Dal?'

Dalton shrugged. 'What do you want me to say?' he asked, utterly perplexed.

Something came to Charlies tongue, but she bit it back. It was too early to tell him. An inner voice that spoke only to women told her to wait, until the feelings she had were confirmed in a more physical manner. Dalton was still looking at her, hoping for some sign of what to do. She launched herself at him and caught him by surprise, toppling him back to the embankment and landing on top of him. She had a wicked expression on her face and Dalton shook his head in amazement. 'Your folks expected us back hours ago. She ran her fingers along the inside of his thigh. 'Ok' he said. 'This is good too.'

Charlie laughed. Dalton kissed her and fumbled in haste to undo her shirt.

Out on the lake, the ripples finally faded away and an unhappy duck searched in vain for fish.

---

The truck rattled back through the open gate. Flashing blue lights were sending out weird dappled patterns of light through the crop rows. Charlie was screaming at Dalton to bridge the last fifty yards to the house. The truck roared up the driveway and shuddered to a halt in front of the police car. Charlie was out of the car and running into the house before the truck had pulled to a complete stop.

Dalton jerked the keys from the ignition and ran off after her.

The front door of the house was open. Cynthia was sitting at the kitchen table holding an icepack to her forehead. A police officer was sitting with her. 'Charlie!' Cynthia said with obvious relief. Charlie ran to her and hugged her. 'What happened?'

'They took Ben, Charlie, they took my Ben away.' Cynthia moaned. Dalton appeared at the doorway. The policeman stood up. 'You Dalton Wainright?'

Dalton nodded. 'Yes sir.'

The police officer motioned towards the door. 'Can I talk with you, outside?'

Charlie looked up from holding Cynthia and motioned with her eyes. Dalton led the police officer back outside. As he left, he looked back at Cynthia. 'Don't worry ma'am, he'll be just fine.'

As they walked away, Charlie dropped down onto her haunches. 'Who took him Cynthia, was it _them_?' Cynthia moaned again and Charlie shook her. 'Mom! Wake up. Who took him?'

'Some men, they came in a truck, they…'

Charlie felt a welling within her and damped it down. A moment's worry about what it might do to…she clamped down on her thoughts. She would deal with one problem at a time.

'How did the police get here?'

Cynthia looked at her through tear streaked eyes. Someone had taken a swing at her, a glancing blow to the forehead, but Cynthia wasn't getting any younger. 'I called them from the store.'

Charlie shook her head. 'You called the police?'

"Isaiah's scared of them' said Cynthia.

Charlie's mind stopped spinning. 'Isaiah's men took him?'

Cynthia nodded and then burst into tears. 'You go get him back Charlie. You get him back.'

Charlie took her chin gently and lifted it until they were eye to eye. 'I promise you, I'll bring him back.'

Charlie kissed her on the forehead and ran for the door.

'Charlie.' Cynthia called, halting her at the doorway. Cynthia's tears had stopped. 'If they hurt him, you make them pay.'

-

The officer waited until they were out of earshot of the house. Dalton spoke first. 'Thank you for coming to sit with Mrs Mander.' He began.

The officer shook his head. 'I was waiting for you.' He said. 'One of our recruits knows you, he said we ought to fetch you and see if it helps.'

Dalton looked at him, puzzled. 'Helps what? What happened?'

The officer's face was grim. 'Like as I can figure it, some of the Faithful came around and took Mr Mander away with them by force.'

Dalton felt a cold sensations encompass him. 'They took him to the compound?'

The officer nodded. 'They've sealed it up tight. We sent a squad car in a few hours ago and they fired at them.'

Dalton winced as if struck with a body blow.

'We've notified the FBI and they're sending a hostage negotiator. I need you to come with me.'

Dalton nodded. 'I'll just tell Cha…my wife.' He said. Charlie rushed out from the house and ran up to them. 'He's at the compound Dal.'

'I know. I'm going to go with the officer and see if I can help.' Dalton said bleakly.

"Give me the keys' Charlie said abruptly.

'You should stay with your mother young lady,' admonished the Officer. 'We have all our people on it.

Dalton put an arm around her and looked at the officer. 'She's coming with us.' He said. The officer made a 'this is a bad idea' face but looking at the two of them, realised he wasn't going to get anywhere. 'Ok, well I'll drive you to…'

Dalton shook his head. 'I know where it is. We'll follow you.'

-

Charlie started up the truck and spun the wheel, dragging the truck around with a rattling complaint of gravel against the underside cab. They followed the police car back out onto the highway. He switched his flashing lights on and they spun in a lazy spiral with no siren to provide accompaniment, like a silent movie. Dalton seemed grey, shell shocked.

'Charlie…I'm sorry.' He mumbled.

Charlie laughed. 'This isn't your fault Dal, this isn't anyone's fault but your fathers. He just can't leave us to be happy.' In her mind, a paper puppet of Isaiah was dancing above a hot wind. She drew satisfaction from her thoughts. Dalton was watching her, alarmed.

'Charlie, Sara and my Mom are in there. You can't…'

'They took BEN!' she screamed at him. 'They _hit_ Cynthia and dragged Ben to the compound so Isaiah can posture and preen himself in front of him. Don't tell _me_ what I can and can't do'

'Charlie…there are kids in there.'

Charlie took a series of quick, gulping breaths. Dalton realised she was crying but had no words to offer her. A nightmare had commenced and there would be no salvation until the end of the bad dream.

As the crested the hill they could see the blinking lights of the police cars cordoning the highway.

'I have to go in' Dalton said quietly. 'Just me, by myself.'

'Uh uh, no way, I'm…' Charlie tried to interrupt. Dalton seized her by the shoulder and shook her, sending the truck careening into a ditch.

'Don't you understand? I _have_ to. I'm the only one who can talk him down from this, before it gets any worse.'

Charlie struck at him, blindly slapping at his face. Dalton withstood her onslaught, speaking slowly and calmly.

'I'm going to move everybody into the room underneath the bell tower. Charlie, I'm going to move all the innocent ones somewhere safe. He'll let me do that, if he thinks I've come back to join him. When they're safe, I'll ring the bell and the police can move in.'

Charlie stoped trying to kill him. She sniffled.

Dalton looked at her. 'When everyone is safe, I'll ring the bell. The bell tower is _brick. _Everything else is _wood_. You understand?'

Charlie nodded. Dalton opened the door of the truck and stepped down. 'I love you Charlie' he said and disappeared into the fields at the side of the road.

A moment later, the police officers car screeched up beside the ditch where the truck sat idling. 'Are you all right?' the officer yelled, running over to the door. He looked in the cabin and saw the young woman, tear streaked and red. 'Where's the boy?' he yelled at her. Charlie shrugged. 'He's gone to try and talk his father out.'

The police officer cursed and fumed. 'Goddamit! He's gonna get hisself killed!' he cursed some more and slammed the door, then opened it again, slightly shamefaced. 'I'm sorry young lady, you better come with me.'

The officer took her hand and helped her down from the truck and led to her to the patrol car. A few moments later the officer pulled to a halt next to the cars blocking the road. He stepped out saying 'wait here' and went to talk to the other officers. Charlie spotted Luka standing amongst them. He saw her through the window and walked over.

'Charlie' he said with a sad smile. 'I'm real sorry.'

Charlie fought to hold back her tears.

'Dalton went in there.' She mumbled.

Luka shook his head. 'That's not good Charlie. The feds are coming in now.' He straightened up and sighed. 'How in the hell did this happen?'

Charlie held up her hand. Luka looked at the bright gold wedding band. He cringed at the sight but quickly masked it. 'Aww crap. Charlie, I gotta tell the lieutenant.' She nodded and Luka ran back to the gathered group of policemen beside the patrol cars and animatedly began pointing and gesturing. They all turned to look at her and each one looked away quickly as she caught their gaze. The shook their heads and muttered to one another. One officer picked up his radio and said something into it, then listened for a reply. From the radio in the patrol car, Charlie heard the conversation. Someone wanted her brought in further. The officer in charge gave Luka some instructions and he ran back to the patrol car. 'The hostage negotiators want you to come down in case we need….in case we need leverage over Dalton'

'I know' Charlie said, pointing to the radio. Luka grimaced. 'Ah yeah. Forgot about that. I'll drive you down there.' Luka called something back to the other policemen and then climbed into the drivers' seat. 'Buckle up' he said to her. 'This is going to be a rough ride.'


	27. Chapter 26

The bus ride back was reminiscent of a cheer squad returning home from a match where their team had been annihilated despite the cheer squads enthusiastic cries of 'give me an 'S''; Silence and drooping pom-poms.

The crew were ashen faced, except for Rufus. He was brimming with anarchistic happiness.

'Hey' he cried out. 'What gives?'

'Shut up Rufus.' said Aki, forlornly.

Rufus jumped up in the middle of the bus. 'What's with you guys. We _rocked_.'

Josiah DeJean was staring at his hands in silent contemplation. The hands that he could use to throttle Rufus. He roared and launched himself over the seat.

Rufus fended him off, falling backwards onto a seat occupied by two of the road crew. Josiah surged above him, trying to kill him. Hands grabbed at Josiah's shoulders and dragged him away.

'Enough!' yelled Ronnie. 'Stop the bus' he yelled to the driver, who obligingly slammed on the brakes and sent people careening down the central aisle. The driver looked at Ronnie with a snarl. 'This fast enough for you?'

The bus pitched and yawed as it left the edge of the road and a loud crash and sudden lurch to the left announced the blow-out of a tire.

Ronny decided to punch him. The doors to the bus opened and crew members fled out onto the side of the road. JJ got up and touched Josiah on the shoulder. Josiah stopped trying to kill Rufus. Ronny let go of the driver.

'Let's stretch our legs' JJ said. The men obediently trudged out behind him.

JJ stepped out of the bus and looked around. They were pulled over beside a field of wheat where a small combine harvester played long games of pac-man, crowning the truck behind it with a cloud of chaff.

The band was hunkered together, whispering. The crew had broken into ones and twos, huddled closely together for protection. JJ felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility, but Vicki just kept smiling at him, as if she had arranged the whole event.

Rufus was puffing out his chest in front of a dejected Josiah Dejean, who was now slumped against the side of the bus, no doubt wondering why the Good Lord had so obviously departed from his company.

The bus driver and Ronnie were looking at the ruin of the two rear left tires.

'Aw Jesus.' muttered the driver.

'I'm hungry' said one of the crew.

'We haven't got anything left' complained another.

'We can eat when we get back home' said Ronny. The crew collectively groaned.

JJ walked over to Vicki. 'Look, I'm really sorry.'

Vicky smiled at him again. 'Why?'

JJ goggled at her in amazement. 'Because I just got you all _fired!_'

Vicky shook her head. 'The lord spoke through you. He will provide.'

'You're right.' He said, feeling a sense of peace return to him.

Josiah Dejean barked a short laugh. 'The lord has cast us out. He's not going to provide a goddamn thing.' he yelled.

Vicky stepped around JJ and took Josiah's arm. 'Have you lost your faith?'

Josiah looked at her in horror, as if pieces of his face were cracking off and falling inwards where they would rattle around and betray his hollowness. His mouth worked up and down soundlessly. The roar of the combine harvester grew, seeming to emanate from Josiah's mouth. It died away suddenly and someone whistled.

A young man was climbing down from the cab of the harvester. The closer he got, the faster he moved, until he gave a start of recognition and doubled his efforts. He cleared the fence in a quick swing and ran forward grinning from ear to ear.

"I _thought_ it was you. I thought it was. I was saying to myself, there's no ways they're gonna be at the side of my field, but here you are.' he said and put his hands on his hips, breathing heavily and still grinning.

Rufus raised an eyebrow. 'And you are…?' he inquired.

The young man snatched his cap from his head and stuck out a hand. 'I'm Bob, Bob, Bob.' He said over and over as he started to grab and shake the hands of anyone within range. Rufus received and enthusiastic pumping of his arm and winced as the farmer let go. When Bob saw JJ, he ran over to him and shook his hand extra hard. 'I just love your music' Bob said. JJ smiled.

Bob looked at each of them, still smiling. Despite the black cloud surrounding the group, it was almost impossible to ignore his ridiculous cheer. The driver of the dump truck was running over too.

'We had a blow-out' JJ said.

Bob nodded and ran up to the back of the bus. 'I saw y'all pullin' over and figured you musta had trouble. I woulda come over earlier, but I wanted t' get to the en' of the row. Ah yeah. I see it. You're gonna need a tow.'

Josiah cursed.

Bob laughed. 'We can help.' He gave another whistle. 'Bubba, get on the radio and ask for Jackson to come on down here with his tow truck.'

'That won't be necessary' Ronny interrupted.

Bob just smiled even more. 'Hell yes its necessary. We can tow you into town and get y'all something cool to drink while we git this here bus roadworthy. My Ma would be just pleased as punch if I brought you into the general store.' He looked at JJ. 'She's just about the biggest fan. We-all thought you put on the best revival in years!'

---

The Civil War had left the town with a civic amenity in the form of a park where the town hall had once stood. When those damn Yankees burned it down, no one felt right to put something up again in the same spot. So they planted trees and left a neat, building shaped park in between the buildings of what was now Main Street.

Gangs of country stained pickups and cars were ferrying the crew from the breakdown, leading the tow truck which in turn led the bus, in quite the strangest parade, stopping in front of the park. JJ, the band and the crew found themselves cushioned by a thousand helping hands. The word had spread and the locals had taken time out from their day to day chores to set up a picnic table in the park and cover it with a red and white checked table cloth piled with food and drink. Soon, a throng of people were milling about the park, calling to each other, shaking hands, making introductions and chatting over a cold chicken leg and a glass of iced tea.

Rufus was sitting under a tree surrounded by pretty young things and strumming his guitar. Even Josiah was responding to the friendly ministrations of the locals.

Vicky and JJ walked underneath the trees, surrounded by the running chatter of the others, but silent within themselves. Vicky trailed half a step behind him as JJ looked about in wonder.

'You know' she said quietly. 'I thought what you did was really true to Jesus' teachings.'

JJ stopped, cocking his head as if listening to a far off voice. Vicky drew closer to him. Even though he couldn't bring himself to look at her, he felt it when she moved near, as if their electric fields had merged. It made him feel warm. He turned so swiftly that she ran in to him and they were face to face, chest to chest. She was looking up into his eyes and holding his gaze. He kissed her, putting his arms around her and holding her against him tightly. For a moment, she responded, closing her eyes and melting into him. JJ kissed her even more fervently but Vicky's eyes snapped open and she recoiled, pushing him away. JJ was aghast. 'Vicky…' he began.

She shook her head, dazed. 'No, no... .' she said. JJ tried to reach for her but she pulled back and turned and ran. 'Vicky!' JJ called out to her as she was swallowed by the crowd. A hand fell on JJ's shoulder. JJ turned to see Ronnie standing beside him. JJ instinctively braced for impact. Instead, Ronny dragged him under his arm and hugged him. 'Good on you lad.' Ronnie said with a grin. JJ cleared his head. 'Huh?'

'Don't fret kid, she'll come round.' Ronny said with a quick squeeze of his shoulder, turning him back towards the picnic table. JJ craned his head in search of Vicky but couldn't find her.

---

The man lay on the bed, utterly dead to the world. A thin snaking vein of an IV was feeding him fluids. He was twisting in his sleep. His writhing attracted the attentions of the nurses. Four of them held him down as he thrashed and twisted, dislodging his IV, scattering bandages about the bed. The chief resident Okayed a shot and they sedated him, focusing their strength to hold an arm down to administer the dose.

He settled back into a quiescent state and the medical staff stood back from the bed and scratched their collective heads in puzzlement.

-

Somewhere in the cold, another stirred. He felt the searing pains of burns, but somehow different, brighter, more real. He sat up in the solution, the weight of his body settling him against the bottom of the tank and giving him purchase. He looked around his room and began pulling the sensors away from his flesh with a wet ripping sound as the skin came away. He smiled as each welt erupted with a small pop.

---

Erles was pacing back and forwards outside the room. 'Are you done yet' he yelled in frustration. The light switched off and the door opened. Charlie emerged, towelling her hair. 'Yeah, sorry Erles.' She said. Erles ran into the bathroom hurriedly and swung the door shut. A moment later, the trickling sound was accompanied by a sigh of relief. 'Aaaaaah' Erles cooed. The water ran for a moment, Erles splashed around and then dried himself with a dainty cotton towel.

Charlie was sitting on the couch in her bath robe. Erles walked out to her and checked to see if she was still mentally present. When he could detect no insipient madness, he nodded to himself and set about fixing dinner. 'Phil will be here soon, so it's time for some food.' He said over his shoulder, from across the wooden island that separated the townhouse living room from the kitchen.

Charlie looked up and nodded numbly, accepting a glass of wine he handed to her. 'I don't drink…' she admitted.

Erles pushed the glass back to her. 'Today darling, you do.' When she still wouldn't accept it, Erles took her glass and poured it into his own. 'Well if you don't need a drink, I certainly do.' Erles took a sip and stepped back over to the kitchen, rattling pots and pans.

When he had the onions sautéing he murmured. 'Want to tell me about it?'

Charlie shook her head. 'No.'

Erles laughed. 'Silly me. I thought, seeing as how you are soiling my couch with your bathwater and refusing to drink my Mondavi, you might at least offer me a tidbit of information.'

Charlie smiled in spite of her funk. 'Ok Erles. Ask away.'

Erles looked up at her. 'Are you seriously offering to talk to me?' Charlie nodded.

Erles gestured to the seat at the island. 'Come, come, sit sit.' He urged. Charlie got up from the couch and came and sat at the table. 'On second thoughts, maybe I will try your wine.' She said. Erles smiled and poured her a glass. Charlie held up a hand to stop him when it reached the halfway point. She took a sip and grimaced. 'Oh god. That's a _good_ wine?'

The onions in the frypan gave a quick sizzle and Erles dolloped more oil into the pan and added anchovies. He took the glass from her and poured it into the pan. 'Yes Charlie. That is a good wine. Philistine.' He chided her.

Charlie breathed in deeply. 'That smells good.'

'A baste for the lamb' Erles noted. 'Now, while that's reducing, let's talk about things.'

Charlie sighed. 'Ok. What.'

'Mm hmm.' Erles said to himself, tasting the sauce. 'Ah yes. Firstly, are you insured?'

Charlie shook her head. 'Nope.'

Erles frowned. 'Next; how did it start?'

'I've already been through this with the police Erles.'

Erles took the sauce off the heat and put it aside. 'I know that. I wanted you to tell me the truth though.'

Charlie snickered. Erles wasn't laughing. 'You keep a lot of things close to your chest Charlie, that's fine with me, but you are being a shit to that adorable man who loves you by not telling him the truth.'

'Phil?' said Charlie, taken aback. 'You're mad at me because of Phil? You've got the hots for him or something?'

Erles slammed a pan down. 'Not that it's any of your business, but' he shuddered. 'You can safely believe I have no other interest in Phil than his exquisite baking skills, and the fact that he loves you, and that I love you also.'

Charlie looked like she had been slapped. 'Yes' continued Erles. 'I love you. That is what friendship is. It is a form of love. In Phil's case, he loves you quite differently.' He shuddered again. 'Erk. But anyway. My point …'

Erles reached for the wall oven and turned the interrupting buzzing alarm down.

'What _is_ your point exactly Erles?' Charlie asked in a sharp tone.

'My point is that you are keeping too many things close to your chest and it's not healthy for a relationship.'

'Ha!' snorted Charlie. Erles stopped cooking and gave her a baleful glare. 'I spoke to the policeman who visited Phil. He told me some things.'

Charlie screwed up her face. '_Did_ he now' she said acidly.

Erles donned oven mitts, pulled out the rack of lamb, swung the oven shut and lay the lamb on the countertop to baste with a brush and the saucepan.

'Yes he did. He told me about a fire at Jonestown.'

'Keepers hill' Charlie corrected automatically until she saw Erles' raised eyebrow. Ooh but he was a sneaky one.

'Yes.' He said. 'Keepers hill. He thinks you were involved somehow. Now a strange man visits your farm and your house burns down. You see where I am going with this?'

Charlie shook her head again. 'Nope. No idea. You tell me.'

Erles started to say something but instead finished glazing the lamb and replaced it into the oven. 'Charlie, why do things burn down around you?'

Charlie sat stock still, unable to respond.

'Is someone trying to get revenge on you for something?' Erles added. Charlie realised she was off the hook and put away the overly truthful answer she had been preparing. She laughed. 'No Erles, there's no revenge. This was an accident. It truly was just an accident and the poor guy who came up to the house just walked in at the wrong time. Anyway, did you get a look at him? He's not the kind of people who would have hung out with Daltons folks.'

Erles considered this. 'I see. So this is all just coincidence.' He fixed Charlie with a stare, daring her to lie to him. Charlie stood up from the table and walked quickly around the island.

'Charlie, what are you…'

'Shh.' she said. She selected a few pieces of flatware from the drawer beside the sink and held them up. 'Watch.' She said and began twisting them. Erles stared at her again, but this time like she had gone stark raving mad.

'Your answer is bending my silverewa…' his voice fell away as Charlie began looping and pulling at the silverware until the combined pieces of cutlery had become a single spinning loop of silver, flowing over her hands. When it had become a perfect circle, she dropped it into the sink where it clattered and sizzled in the water.

Erles jaw was wide open. The front door to the house opened and Phil stuck his head in. 'Hey honey, I'm home!' he called out cheerfully, bringing a bunch of flowers in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. He walked over to where Erles and Charlie stood, facing each other. 'What'd I miss?'

---

The prison gates loomed large, then smaller and smaller still. The man didn't stand at the gates looking out on freedom, afraid of the outside world. The doors opened and he stepped forward with purpose, putting a mile between him and the gates in short time. When they had receded beyond sight, then he stopped and looked around, savouring the freedom of the open air. A battered VW pulled to the side of the road. 'Unk!' called the driver. 'Unk!'

The man walked over to the car and threw his small satchel in the back. 'I was beginning to think you had forgotten' he said menacingly, yet brightly.

The driver cleared the rubbish away from the seat and opened the door for him. 'No unk, I done just like you said.'

The man smiled. 'You have done well. Have you made the other preparations?'

'Yes unk. It's all ready to go. I let the people know. They're waiting to meet you.'

'That's good my boy, that's very good.'

The man settled into the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt. The young man handed him a newspaper. 'I found something you want to see.'

At the bottom of the page a small headline 'Local Homestead Burns' and a picture of a field with smoke rising above it.

'See unk, I did like you said, I kept watch.'

The man stared hard at the paper, the picture, the long trail of smoke.

'What is it Unk?' asked the young man, putting the car into gear and revving it out onto the road.

The man clasped his hands together and praised the lord. 'It's a sign child, it's a sign.'


	28. Chapter 27

The insurance assessor stepped around the burnt out porch and whistled. 'Jeez, really got some burn here.' he mused.

Phil stood a few feet away, looking concerned. 'Well, yeah, oxy-acetylene will do that for you.' he explained hopefully.

The assessor looked at the patterns of burn and raised his sunglasses, giving Phil a decidedly unbelieving look. 'Uh huh. Oxy-Acetylene. Gotcha.'

Phil clamped his mouth shut. The fact that the man was here was a blessing. Adding more information than was necessary was looking a gift horse in the mouth.

'I suppose that might account for the localisation of the burn. It ran out of puff. Where are the tanks?'

'Ah, I moved them.' Phil suggested. The assessor scowled. 'The fire inspector is gonna have a fit.'

'I was afraid the hot metal would start another fire and I wanted to try and save what was left.'

The assessor looked at him curiously. Phil prayed fervently his white lies would hold up.

Phil watched him pick around the remains of the homestead and scratch notes onto a pad.

'Well, I guess that's about it. We'll get this put through and cut a cheque for you.' The man said, putting the lid back on his pen.

Phil choked in surprise. 'You're kidding me? That's it?'

The tall man nodded. 'Yep. I could wait for the fire report I suppose…' he let it trail away.

'I didn't mean…' Phil rushed to say.' Sure, go ahead and cut a cheque. I'm just… it's all just been a bit of a blur. I had no idea that the house was even insured.'

The assessor laughed. 'Well, someone took out a policy back in 1921. This house has been in your family quite a while.'

'Not mine' Phil corrected. 'Charlies, she's, she's my….' Phil shook his head. 'I spent last night on our friends couch so I am a little shaky.'

The assessor uncapped his pen and pulled out a pad. 'We can't have that.' He tore off a pad of vouchers. 'These will get you a hotel room for a few days until we can sort out some other accommodation.' Phil took the vouchers, blinking. 'You guys are great!'

'Just doing my job, Dr.' the assessor said, clapping Phil on the shoulder.

Phil didn't stop to wonder how the man knew he held a doctorate.

'The only thing I need to complete this is to get your…partners signature here.' The assessor said, pointing to the pad.

'Right' said Phil. 'Let me give you a lift into town.'

---

John Redman looked at the sleeping man in the chair. He was snoring softly, his head drifting down on the exhale and floating back up his shoulders on the in breath. John was in a hospital room with an IV running into his arm. He instinctively knew not to move too fast. He felt an itching and tingling along patches of his arms, face, neck, shoulder, even his back. He was lying on his side, obviously keeping off the burns on his back. They were sore, which he knew to be a good sign. The bad ones burn through the nerves. You don't feel a thing.

He returned his attentions to the sleeping guardian. He was a LEO by the look of it, dressed in a cheap suit reserved for lowly paid detectives trying not to look like cops. The predictable bulges at his side, belt and chest pocket alerted John to the fact that the man was carrying a badge and a gun.

'Yo!' John called out softly to him. 'Mr Policeman?'

The man snorted awake with a wild flash of his eyes. They refocused to see John grinning at him.

The first thing he asked was 'How are you feeling?'

John was taken aback, but answered anyway. 'I don't know yet. I think they've pumped me full of drugs, I feel a little like I'm wrapped up in cotton wool. Everything's a bit fuzzy. Are you a cop?'

The man cleared his throat. 'I'm Sergeant Wachowski.'

'_Detective_ Sergeant.' John added.

The man smiled. 'Yeah; that too. You're obviously feeling well enough to talk, so do you mind answering a few questions.'

'Excuse me for not shaking hands but I'm not moving fast right now' John said, nodding his assent.

'Ok, great. Ah, I should tell you that you do have the right to remain silent, that you…'

'Are you arresting me?' John interrupted.

'No…not yet.' The sergeant replied slowly. 'Should I arrest you?'

John grinned again. 'Probably, but not for anything I've done recently.'

This provoked a laugh from the sergeant, who tried to return to a serious demeanour. 'Anything you say can and will be used in evidence.' He produced a tape recorder and held it up. 'I'm going to turn this on and repeat what I just said.'

John shrugged 'It's all the same with me; I suppose it just depends on the kind of answers you want.'

The Sergeant paused mid throw of the switch and put the tape recorder down. 'What kind of answers am I likely to get?'

'Do you always answer a question with a question?'

The sergeant frowned. 'Yes. I guess I do.' He showed the recorder, waiting for John to note that it was 'off' and then laid it aside.

'Ok. No tapes, no cautions. Nothing can be used by anybody. Now tell me why you burned down the Mander farm?'

John sucked a breath in and choked on a loose piece of saliva. He coughed. '_Me?_ Are you out of your freaking mind?'

The Sergeant just kept staring at him. John rolled a little to the left and winced as the burns collided with the bed. 'Ouch. Boy, this has been one crazy few weeks.'

'Mm hmm.' The Sergeant agreed. 'You can say that again.'

John turned his head back to face the man. The sergeant was contemplating some internal items, staring out into space. 'What happened?' said the Sergeant, returning from the depths of his mind.

'You wouldn't believe me if I told you.'

'Try me.' The Sergeant said matter-of-factly. 'You have no idea what kind of crazy I might buy.'

John laughed, winced then laughed again. 'This is my second trip to the hospital recently. Last time I was there, this Doctor told me a heck of a story. You want to hear it?'

The Sergeant shook his head. 'Nope. Let's just stick to _your_ story. What were you doing at the Mander farm?'

'Looking for my Uncle.' John said truthfully. 'He's been missing a long time and its giving my family some heartache.'

The Sergeant snorted again. 'Aww come on. Jackson was _your_ uncle?'

John looked at him, slightly bewildered. 'Jackson who? My uncle's name was John; Same as mine.'

It was the Sergeant's turn to look confused. 'Huh?'

John looked back at him in continued bewilderment. 'The woman that lives there, Charlie, she may have been one of the last people to see my uncle alive.'

This drew the Sergeants attention. 'You said 'Charlie'. How do you know her?'

'I don't know her. I have been running down leads for a few weeks and she came up on my radar. I was just following my gut, for want of a better term.'

The Sergeant seemed to take this in. 'I take it you're not a member of the Aryan Brotherhood?'

John laughed again. 'We've met, but no. I don't think they'll be sending me a Christmas basket anytime soon.'

'So for some reason you went out to the farm, looking for someone who knew your missing uncle, and then their house just happened to catch fire.' The Sergeant scratched his head. 'Quite a coincidence, don't you think?'

'Maybe.' John admitted. 'But I didn't go there to burn the place down. I went to talk to her, to ask her what she remembered. She would only have been a kid back then so…'

'How did the fire start?'

John's eyes rolled back in their sockets. He felt a little nauseous. 'I have no idea. I walked in the porch, said 'hi' and the next thing I know there was a fireball and I was running out of the place.' John watched to see if the Sergeant was reacting to this statement. He simply sat there and listened.

'Go on' said the sergeant.

'That's it. I ran outside, she came out after me and the place was on fire. I was on fire a bit too so I dropped and rolled. I must have passed out. Then I woke up here. That's everything' John lied.

'Ok' said the Sergeant. 'That'll do for now.' He got up to leave. 'Don't ah, leave town.' he cautioned. John looked back up him from the bed. 'Do I look like I'm going anywhere?'

---

Yiam stopped in front of the elevator. The hall was filled with people. Two of the security guards were flanking the elevator and escorted her forward.

"What's going on?' she asked as they held her arms.

Neither would say anything. She was briskly marched down the hall and into the comms room. Greg was standing there beside the Director. He looked away as she was walked in.

'You can wait outside' The Director said to the security staff. Yiam looked around her in fright.

'What's...?'

'Yiam, you used Greg's pass to reset an access code. Why?'

The colour drained from Yiam's face. 'Greg, I'm sorry' Yiam said. Greg wouldn't look at her.

'Answer the question Yiam. Why did you change the access code?'

Yiam shrugged. 'It was for Steve. He got locked out of his office.'

The Director remained stern. Greg let out a sigh of relief. 'See, I told you.'

'I'm sorry...' Yiam tried again.

'Be quiet Yiam. You're not off the hook yet.' The Director snapped. 'You can wait in the cafeteria until I work out what to do with you.'

Yiam looked at the floor and turned around, heartbroken. Greg waited until she'd walked out of the room before coming to her defence.

'Come on Kathy, she's a kid for crying out loud.'

'A kid that's let loose a horror.' The Director snapped, rounding on Greg.

'She didn't let _it_ out. Steve let the fucking thing out. Blame him.'

The Director stopped mid breath. That last comment stung. 'She breached operational security. That's a major fuck up, not a character flaw, Greg. I'd have her court martialled if I was able.'

Greg winced. 'We're not the CIA Kathy. You can't…' he stopped speaking. Something in her face made him think it wise not to plant ideas in her head. Kathy had a magnificent mind and a flair for organisation the likes of which he had never seen, but she also had something else in her that he had never possessed and gladly avoided. 'He can't have got far Kathy, not in the state he's in.'

'We don't know that. What if he's with Steve now?'

Greg shook his head. 'I just don't believe it. Steve would never do this. It has to be…'

'What?' yelled Kathy. 'What else can it be? Steve cracked into the cold room and decided to trade _it _what it wants. That's it.' She said, stopping suddenly. 'That's where they'll both be.'

Greg watched her nonplussed, and then it dawned on him. 'Oh crap.' Greg raced to the terminal and brought the screens to life. 'Run up…' The Director started to say.

'Waaay a head of you. This is the tree, here's the…oh Jesus, look at this.' Greg brought up the line marked MCG:AND. The branches of the father and mother were grey, cold, dark. The branches of the Offspring were lighting up a deep red. 'Hang on.' Greg said and brought up the linked files. A news item showed a farm with smoke rising above it.

'Her house burned down.' Greg murmured.

The Director looked at the images. 'She's active again.' Further down the line, the lower light was blinking amber. 'What's that one?' she said, pointing.

Greg zoomed in on it. 'That's the 2nd generation offspring with a null. The research project has turned up a link.' Greg summoned it to the screen. A story about a wild frenzy at a Christian revival meeting. The daughter was the producer of the show.

The Director shook her head. 'I've had Steve chasing down all these ghosts and we've got an emergence under our noses.'

Greg shook his head. 'You don't know that. This could be coincidence.' Kathy barked out a laugh. 'Come _on_ Greg. We don't work in coincidences. We work in cause and effect. We have to make contact and we need to do it now.' The Director flipped open her cell phone 'I need a team on the line right now.'

Greg looked at her. 'I don't suppose you've ah, err, tried _calling_ Steve have you?'

The Director blinked. She hung up the phone and dialled another number.

---

Charlie was awkwardly carrying the groceries under one arm and fishing for the spare set of keys to Erles place with the other hand. When she failed to locate the keys on her third grab, she put the bag of groceries down on the pavement and stood up to allow the pockets of her jeans to straighten out and began rummaging in them until her fingertips closed around the metal loop of the key ring. She smiled in triumph and pulled them out from her pocket. That's when she noticed the black SUV.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up. 'This is how it comes.' She thought to herself. 'This is the beginning.'

The doors of the SUV swung open. Charlie stood there, holding the keys in one hand, the groceries at her feet.

A tall man in dark sunglasses was getting out of the passenger side. He had the look about him all right.

'Hey honey, guess what, we're insured!' yelled Phil, getting out of the other side of the SUV with a silly expression on his face.

Charlie smiled. How was he to know he'd been conned. Even from here, she could feel a weight of metal underneath the arm of the man in sunglasses. The critical moment approached. The mans cell phone rang and he stopped to answer it. 'Hello?'

Phil walked over to Charlie, beaming. 'Don't say anything, but it looks like your folks took out a policy on the house! They're ready to cut a cheque!' Phil announced happily. 'Phil, he's not an insurance agent.' Charlie said quietly, smiling.

'Huh?' said Phil.

Charlie pulled him close and pretended to kiss him on the cheek, whispering. 'He's carrying a gun Phil. He's one of _them_.'

Phil blinked. 'Who's _them_?' he asked, uncomprehendingly.

'Sorry guys, I just got an urgent call from Head Office, so I gotta go.' The man said, smiling at them. 'But you said...' Phil complained.

The man held up his hands. 'Don't worry about a thing. I'll be back.'

He walked quickly back over to his car and got in. 'But what about the signature?' Phil called to him, but the man had already started the car and pulled away.

Charlie breathed out a sigh of relief. 'What an asshole' Phil said, shaking his head. 'I bet they just refused the claim and he doesn't even have the balls to tell us.'

The SUV was disappearing down the street. Phil turned back to Charlie and picked up the groceries at her feet. When he was standing up again he said 'Did you say he was carrying a gun?'

Charlie nodded. 'It's about time I told you a few things.'

Phil took the keys and opened the door. 'Why not? It can't get any stranger than the last few days.'

Charlie smiled. 'Oh boy.' She said and followed him inside.

---

The bus was travelling smoothly and quietly along the highway now, the crew were mostly asleep. They were fed, rested and generally in a more agreeable frame of mind, despite their circumstances. The bus driver looked out ahead. At the side of the road, a VW was resting in a ditch, the hood up. Feeling unusually Christian, the driver pulled to the side of the road and opened the door. A lanky haired young man ran up to the bus. 'You guys stuck?' The driver called to him.

The lanky haired man nodded. 'Yeah. My car broke down. Can you give me and my uncle a ride into town?'

The bus driver looked at his sleeping passengers. Ronny roused himself and rubbed his eyes. 'Wha..?' he said as he came to.

A thin man in a grey suit walked up to the doors. 'We prayed for assistance and you have arrived, hallelujah.'

Ronny frowned. The Bus Driver looked at him pointedly. 'They broke down too.'

The man looked at Ronny with a benevolent gaze. 'Praise the lord. God has guided you to us in our hour of need.'

'Where you bound?' Ronny asked.

'Just into town, then we can send some friends out to fetch the car.'

Ronny scratched his head and yawned. 'Must be the season for it. We got room, climb on in guys.'

The old man got up into the Bus and took Ronny's hand. 'Bless you son, bless you. My name is Daniel.'

Ronny shook his hand, a dry, firm grasp. 'I'm Ronny.'

'And this is my nephew, Aaron.'

The bus driver closed the door and started the bus up again.

'Your car gonna be ok there?' Ronny asked.

'Radiators busted. She aint going nowhere.' replied the younger one.

Ronny nodded. 'We had a blow out a day ago, so I know how you feel.' Ronny shifted a sleeping figure out of the way. The crewmember ignored the movement and continued to sleep. 'You can sit here' Ronny said. They took their seats, the older one looking around the bus. JJ was curled up, bible clasped to his chest. When he came to Vicky, lying asleep in one of the seats, he paused for a moment, and then brought his gaze back to Ronny. 'Are you a church group?'

Ronny shrugged. 'You might say that.' Ronny yawned again. 'Hope you don't mind, but we've been travelling all night and I'm still a little sleepy.'

Daniel smiled. 'Please continue your rest. My nephew and I are quite comfortable, thank you. It's a welcome relief to be in the presence of the faithful once again.'

'Yeah, that's great.' Ronny murmured and promptly fell asleep.

The bus drove on.


	29. Chapter 28

Andy's Gas-n-go had been renamed three times as a succession of petroleum interests waxed and waned and decided they didn't want their branding on the two pump-1-bathroom pit stop at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.

They were still happy to sell the petrol though, so Andy found himself with willing suppliers when he bought and renamed the rusty old shack. It hadn't turned out to be the retirement windfall he had planned. The new major highway took the trucks away and the Locals bought their gas in town.

All in all, it had proven to be a major diaster until some pencil necks built a new institute up the road and needed a place to buy knick-knacks and to refuel their SUV's. Never one to look a geek horse in the mouth, Andy stocked the shelves with a mix of highbrow mineral waters and high caffeine content guarana drinks and a selection of cheeses, breads and newspapers from the big cities that no local in their right mind would buy. The errant few locals who stumbled back in with a desire to gloat at the quaintness of the doomed old station would look at the labels on the shelves and then squint as they read the price tag, quickly put it back down and scurry back to the main road wondering _who_ _on earth bought that stuff anyway_?

Andy didn't care that the locals snubbed him now. Those SUV's sure chewed up the juice and he had a steady stream of gas guzzling customers that even made the petrol companies start sniffing around to buy back the franchise.

Andy was settling in for a quiet, profitable winter and watching daytime cable TV in nice new air-conditioning and looked up with a smile when the new automatic door opened with a satisfying whoosh. He turned down the volume on the TV and prepared to ring up another overpriced item on the till.

Andy had seen a variety of customer types come through his doorway, from the white lab coated technicians to the paramilitary dressed types that ran security for the institute. A tall shambling skeleton garbed in visible muscles that knotted and corded as it walked towards the counter leaving wet, bloodied footprints on his nice new floor, was not was Andy expected. Andy's jaw hung open as the thing approached.

'ahhhh…neeed…..to….use….your…pffone.' it sighed.

Andy pulled the phone out from its cradle and placed it on the counter without any conscious idea he was doing so.

'Thaaaank…youu..' the thing whispered and took the phone from the counter with a disquieting squelch as its skinless palms made contact. Andy winced at the sound.

The thing was still staring at him as it pressed the numbers into the phone with an equally nauseating wet sound. Andy stayed motionless, as if it would make him invisible. The things mouth opened, showing impossibly perfect white teeth. Andy realised it was smiling.

"Cannn……ahhh ….getttt….sommme….offf….tthhhattt……jerrrrky?'

---

Steve pulled the car over to the side of the road as soon as he cleared the street. The Director was breathing very loudly on the phone.

"What?' he said in disbelief, 'No way.'

Steve held the phone away from his ear. 'Hey!' he yelled back. 'Don't scream at _me_ Kathy. How can you even think I'd...?'

'YOU LET HIM LOOSE!' she screamed again.

Steve felt a horrible crawling sensation. 'I didn't. I swear I have no idea how he got out of there.'

She went quiet on the line. 'You underestimated him Steve. That's a fatal mistake.'

Steve rolled his eyes. How had it got out? 'Listen, I'm right in the middle of contact…'

There was a crash at the other end. She was throwing things around the room. Suddenly the noise level dropped away. 'I can't believe you've done this Steve. I just can't believe it.'

'We're _drowning_ Kathy. We're drowning while you're running around trying to save the whole planet. How long is it going to be before one of the undiscovered sets off a mini apocalypse? Jesus! You've seen the numbers. You've seen Greg's research. What was I supposed to do?' That stopped her for a moment. He quickly followed up. 'Have you seen her flags Kathy? She's active as hell. I didn't make any deals with _it. _The flags were up before I even saw _it_. Something is going down and you would have sent me anyway, wouldn't you? Or was this a special case that you wanted to keep for yourself?' The silence on the other end of the line continued. 'So get over your anger and tell me what the hell happened.'

'We're going to talk about this later' she said. 'I bet we will' Steve said to himself.

Steve could feel her smouldering on the other end of the line. It took her a moment to gather her rage in and she spoke calmly, but with a brittle edge to her voice Steve knew to be the fury she was yet to vent.

'As I was saying, sometime after your…visit...with our guest, he detached the wires from himself and broke out of the building.'

Steve shook his head. 'That's impossible. You would have known the minute the alarms went...'

'He left someone in the tank. One of the lab techs.'

'Oh Christ.' Steve muttered.

'The internal airlock isn't coded outgoing. Only the entry door. Did you give him the pin code?'

'No way.'

'There's no other explanation Steve.'

Steve nodded to himself. 'Yes. You're right. There's no other explanation, but it wasn't me.' He said simply.

The Director sucked in a breath. 'Goddamit. I believe you Steve. I hate it, but I believe you. There is another explanation. They've got someone inside already.'

Steve grew colder. 'Jesus Kathy, you need to…'

The line static rose.

'Director? Kathy?' The phone line went dead. He frantically redialed. 'The service area you are calling cannot be…' Steve hung the phone up and started the engine, roaring back into traffic.

---

Charlie waited while Phil fussed around Erles's apartment, putting the groceries away. She waited on the sofa, her hands clasped in her lap.

"You want a coffee or something?' Phil asked.

'No.' she said. 'I'm fine.'

He smiled. 'Ok. Hang on a minute.'

He flipped the switch on the artistically designed kettle and waited while it boiled. 'You want to start now?' he asked.

Charlie shook her head. 'I'll wait.'

Phil shrugged. 'Ok by me, but if this is about your pyrokinesis, I already know.'

Charlie's mouth fell open. 'What?'

The kettle steamed briskly and Phil turned it off and poured the water into some instant coffee. He stirred it whilst talking. 'The ability or produce flame, or to control flame. Sometimes accompanied by the movement of objects, similar to telekinesis.'

Charlie sat there dumbfounded. 'But, but...' she said.

Phil walked over and gave her a kiss. 'I like to watch you sculpt sometimes. It's really cool.' Charlie stared at him in horror, and then launched herself at him. 'You ratbag!' she cursed. Phil moved his cup out of the way, avoiding her onslaught. 'Whoah there missy. I figgered you'd be pleased. Saves a bunch of explaining.'

This stopped Charlie dead in her tracks. Phil nonchalantly sipped his coffee.

'How long have you known?'

Phil shrugged. 'Gee, a long time I guess. The whole oxy torch thing had me fooled for a while. I started doing some math's to see how much oxy you'd need over the course of a year, I was going to surprise you with some, so I worked out that the amount of energy you would need to do what you were doing and compared it to the number of bottles you ordered and well…the math doesn't lie. The energy had to be coming from somewhere. All the small stuff you did was easier to explain. It was only when you graduated up to the bigger pieces that the math's started to fall apart. I used to think there was something wrong with my numbers.'

Charlie sat in shock.

'I told you I wouldn't ask you about that part of your past, and I didn't. Can't stop me from working it out on my own though, can you?' he asked sweetly. "but if you're in the mood to talk, I'm more interested in all the other stuff, you know, like how the house burned down, why Nazi's are after you, the guy with the gun, that kind of thing.'

Charlie didn't know what to think. Phil was beaming at her. He seemed extremely happy.

'They're not Nazi's' she said at last. 'At least, Dalton wasn't. His father, Isaiah was a schismatic Christian with a messiah complex. They weren't Nazi's.'

Phil nodded. 'Ok. Go on.'

Charlie blinked again. 'What else have you been keeping secret?' she asked pointedly.

Phil coughed out his coffee. '_Me?_' he laughed uproariously. Charlie didn't find it funny. He tried to hug her but she pushed him away. He sat back, not smiling. 'Charlie, you know most everything there is to know about me. Don't call the kettle black. I think this is your turn to answer the question, not mine.' He sat back against the sofa, crossed his arms and waited. Charlie stared daggers at him but he remained unmoved, merely drinking his coffee and waiting with infernal patience.

Somewhere inside Charlie's mind a long latched door creaked open with a complaint. All the fear, all the pain she had locked away for so long was hidden behind the door. As the words left her mouth she realized they had long ago lost their power over her, she just hadn't known. 'My fathers name was Andy; he met my mother in college when they were both young. Her name was Vicky. They volunteered for an experiment and were injected with something that produced what I have. What Vicki has also.'

Phil sat up straight. 'Vicki? But I've never seen...'

Charlie lip trembled. The brave façade she had held onto for so long imploded silently. A lone tear dropped from her eye and began a tortuous slow descent down her cheek.

Phil put his coffee down and put his arms around her. She didn't resist, but didn't move either. He held her and she cried.

'I did something to her, when she was only a baby, I had to, I had to protect her' Charlie wept. 'I ruined her.'

Phil stroked her cheek, letting the tears melt into his rough hands. 'You didn't ruin her. I'm sure whatever you did; you did because you had to.' Charlie pushed away from him and went in search of a tissue, lest she mar Erles fine couch with her tears. 'You don't know Phil. She was such a happy child, she was so outgoing and friendly and then…'

'Let's leave that aside for the moment. Why did you try to kill that guy who came to the house? Was he one of Dalton's family?'

Charlie found her tissues and blew her nose. 'No. He just reminded me of someone who tried to hurt me a long time ago. Ok, maybe reminded is the wrong word. He looked _exactly_ like the same person. I thought they were coming for me again.'

Phil shook his head. 'Who are 'they'? The government?'

Charlie shrugged. 'I don't think so, not anymore. Maybe a rogue department or something. My Dad and I were on the run a long time. That's how we met Cynthia and Ben, they hid us for a while, but the agency found us and took us away. A man, his name was John, he became my friend. I thought he would help us escape, but he just wanted to use me as well. My father used his own um, talents, to convince them to let us escape, but it went wrong. John tried to stop us and then after that, it gets a little hazy… I was only young and the...the…'big bad' I used to call it, was very very strong. Stronger than me. I think I killed them all but I don't know for sure. All I know is I got away and the Manders took me in. Since then I have been waiting for them to roll up any minute and take everything away from me.'

She blew her nose again and wadded up the tissues.

'So you've been in hiding forever.' Phil said softly. 'I can see why you didn't want to talk about it.'

Charlie leaned forward and took his hands. 'But I want to talk about it now.'

Phil smiled at her. 'Ok, so what happened at the house?'

'I guess I kind of overreacted.' Charlie said, blushing.

'You blew out the front porch!' Phil said with a laugh.

Charlie looked a little sheepish. 'Yeah. I guess I did.' Their eyes met and they both started to giggle. Charlie stopped suddenly. 'It's really not very funny.'

'Of course it is. You didn't kill the guy, you just roughed him up a bit and Cynthia would forgive you.'

The name brought another tear to Charlie's eye.

'Oh come on now, from what you've said, your grandfath...Ben was planning on rebuilding before he died anyway. Besides which, the insurance…oh.' He stopped. 'There is no insurance, is there?'

Charlie shook her head. 'It's _them_. I know it.'

Phil was about to say something and then changed his mind. 'Ok. So why are they trying to help us?'

"They're not. They want something.'

Phil stood up and walked over to the table where he had dropped his things. He took the pile of hotel vouchers out and held them up. 'These are hotel vouchers, like the airlines use. If they're fakes, they're good fakes. They look mighty similar to the ones I've used going to conferences. So your rogue department just handed us several thousand dollars worth of free accommodation.'

'I can't explain it Phil, but the guy who dropped you off was carrying a pistol under his arm. I am telling you it's _them_.'

'What about the guy in hospital? Is he one of them?'

Charlie frowned. 'I don't know. I thought he was, but now I'm not so sure.'

'Well.' Phil said, picking up his car keys. 'There's one way to find out.' Phil put a hand on her arm and helped Charlie to her feet. 'Where are we going?' she asked.

'We're going to go have a chat with your favourite marshmallow.'

---

John awoke from an uneasy dream of vans and men with black masks. He half expected one to be seated in front of him in the overemphasized masculinity of an armoured vest and battle kit webbing. Instead, he opened his eyes and found Cassie staring at him. 'Are you awake?'

John smiled. 'Cassie! How did you…'

Cassie made a tiny shrug of her shoulders. 'Someone called Uncle Frank called me and told me where you were. He sent a car. How he got my number I don't know…'

John smiled. 'Probably Owl. They're surprisingly clever birds.'

Cassie went silent.

"I'm really glad to see you' John said. She brightened considerably.

'Well, you're wounded again.' She said, looking at the tubes and bandages.

'Yeah' John laughed. 'Go figure. You know I _was_ going to come back and see you, I just got a little…sidetracked.'

The door to the room opened and a Burly man with wild hair stuck his head around the corner. 'Ah, you're busy, we'll come back' he said looking at the two of them. They were holding hands.

Despite failing to recognize him John called out. 'Come on in.'

The man hesitated. 'I've got someone who wanted to see how you were, we just thought...'

'Help me up here' John said to Cassie and started to wriggle upright. Cassie pulled at his arm and helped to lever him up into a sitting position.

'My names Phil' the big man said. 'This is…'

The scarlet haired woman walked in through the door and John recoiled for an instant. Cassie stepped between them protectively.

'Charlie' John said from the bed and Cassie turned to look at him. 'Charlie, this is Cassie. Cassie, this is Charlie; Vicki's mother. Vicki was the only member of your mother's class who didn't go to the lake that day.'

Cassie sucked a breath inwards. Charlie looked at Cassie and stopped motionless. 'I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry. It's my fault.'

Cassie shook her head. 'John, what's going on here?'

John felt a crowding of presences in his mind. 'It might help if I told you all a little story…'

---

Once upon a time, my father, a gregarious man by nature, made a good friend. We'll call him 'Jim'. They used to go bowling together and sometimes drink beer at the veteran's hall. Jim was an old farmer who had served in Korea as a truck driver. He and my father shared all sorts of pranks and games, as men who have never truly grown up will do. Jim was very kind to my father when he settled in a small country town where people were not renowned for their acceptance of outsiders, let alone 'foreigners', however good their English. Let's just say that Jim had a certain presence about him, a certain rock solidness, like he was made up from the earth of the fields. He had a booming, infectious laugh and was of great companionship to my father. He was one of the few people he truly thought of as a friend. My father was a serious man, also from the army, but not the US Army. He had served with British Forces in Malaya during the insurgency, so they had many memories of Asia to share, while they drank and bowled.

One day, Jim called my father. He was very serious. He had a problem with his great grand daughter and he wanted my father to help. My father of course was only too happy to offer what little assistance he could and so Jim sent his Granddaughter, we'll call her 'bobby', to see my father and explain the trouble.

Whatever happened in that meeting, he wouldn't tell me, but by the end of it, he was convinced that he _must_ help her and her child. He told me that the child had an unusual problem. He said she was very convincing, able to tell adults fantastic stories and have them believe every word. She could cry wolf and the towns' folk would come running with pitch and tar and blazing torches. One day, she told a story to her teacher and the teacher believed her and took her class with her to the forest, where the wolf that was real ate them

And so my father went to meet with the child and he took with him his medical bag with the worn black leather handles that he never replaced. He took a small pencil torch and a mirror and looked into her eyes. He talked to her for a time and he convinced her to never cry wolf again.

---

'How' Charlie said, spellbound. 'How?'

John shrugged. 'He helped her to convince herself never to tell anyone what to do again.'

Cassie shook her head, not comprehending. 'What has this got to do…?'

Charlie looked at her squarely. 'They threw a rock at her in the playground. She told them, she told them to go jump in the lake.'

Cassie put a hand to her mouth, blanching white.

'She was only a child, she didn't know, _we_ didn't know...' Charlie rushed to say

John caught Cassie's arm, making her turn to look at him. 'It _was_ an accident Cassie. Your mama didn't kill herself or those kids. It was just an awful, lousy, tragic accident.'

Cassie slumped down into the chair, stunned.

'How did you know?' Charlie asked John.

John looked back at her, unafraid. 'I collect stories. This one needed to be finished.'

'Are you working for the Agency?'

John blinked. 'I'm working for the family business, but it's a casino, not a talent studio.'

Phil shut the door behind them. He walked over and put out a hand. 'Can we start with some other introductions? My name is Phil. Charlie you already know. Your name is?'

'John Rainbird' Charlie said unbidden.

John's ears pricked up. 'That's my uncles' last name. My name is John Redman. Did you think I was...?'

Charlie nodded. 'I'm sorry. I don't know you, but I knew your uncle and he was…he was...'

'A bad man.' John finished for her. 'I'm looking for him.'

Charlie did a double take. 'He's dead. He's got to be dead.'

John sighed. 'Somehow, I don't think so. I've been following a trail and it led me to you. You were the last person to see him before he disappeared.'

Charlie sat down on the chair opposite the bed. 'I think I killed him.'

Cassie was watching the two of them, locked in some arcane contest. 'I am really very confused by all this.' She said. 'And I don't know how your daughter could have convinced my mother drown herself but its kind of you to try and…'

John gripped her hand. 'It's all true Cassie. Just believe it for now. Charlie has come here to make amends in some way.'

Cassie squeezed his hand in reply. 'You're sweet, but none of this makes sense. I'm going to go get some water and leave you two to talk.' Cassie relinquished his hand and got up. Phil opened the door. 'Mind if I come with you?'

Cassie smiled. 'Sure.'

Phil waited for her to walk out and looked back to Charlie and John Redman. 'You two have some things to discuss, so we'll give you some time. Play _nice_ now' he warned Charlie. Charlie scowled at him and he departed, closing the door.

'He seems like a nice guy.' John observed.

'Yeah.' Charlie grumbled. 'He's too damn smart for his own good. Look, I really am sorry about the whole trying to kill you thing. I overreacted.'

John laughed, winced and laughed again. He was feeling decidedly chirpy. 'I should have knocked.' He said with a grin.

Charlie couldn't believe he was cracking jokes and couldn't help smiling herself. 'Right. I just wanted to apologise for…'

John held a hand up to stop her. 'No need. What you just did for Cassie more than makes up for it.'

Charlie frowned. 'But it's my fault!'

John shook his head. 'Don't be silly. It's not anyone's fault. Your daughter was a child. My hair will grow back and I think my tribe might owe _you_ an apology for the behavior of my uncle. I don't know what he did but I can guess it wasn't good.'

Charlie's mouth snapped shut. John's eyes were glazing over slightly, his voice seemed to come from somewhere beyond him.

'These seeds of destruction lie dormant: unforgotten, unresolved. They bloom into ghosts of past terrors and haunt us until they are laid to final rest when we acknowledge our own dark hearts and seek forgiveness.' John suddenly snapped back into the present. 'Whoah. I think the drugs are kicking in.'

Charlie looked at him with a sense of fear. 'How old are you John?'

John shrugged. 'You'd have to ask my mom. She never would tell me, said it made her feel old.'

'You came to the farm to ask me questions about John Rainbird. I owe you answers.'

John smiled. 'You don't owe me anything, but I'll accept your help if you give it freely.'

Charlie felt she was signing up for more that the casual meaning of the words, but she set her thoughts aside and said 'Freely given.'

John nodded. 'Tell the story Charlie. Tell me the story of John Rainbird.'

---


	30. Chapter 29

Phil poured water into one of the ridged little plastic cups from the cooler and handed one to Cassie. She smiled, accepted the cup and popped two small white pills into her mouth and swallowed them with the water.

'Headache?' Phil said, raising an eyebrow.

'Anti Depressants, actually.' Cassie said with a wry smile.

'Ah.' Phil said. 'Oops.'

Cassie touched his arm. 'It's ok, really. All this is just a bit much to take. He didn't really…that…what he said…was.' Cassie trailed away. Phil drank from his own cup. 'I don't understand it all either.'

'That makes two of us' Cassie said with a shrug. "So how do you fit into the picture?'

Phil blinked, suddenly on the spot. 'I live with Charlie. Your friend on the bed came to visit and there was an accident and she wanted to see how he was doing.'

'An accident?'

Phil looked away. 'Uh yeah.'

Cassie followed his face around. 'Seems like there are a lot of accidents.'

'Malachi Constant thought so.' Phil said in agreement. When Cassie's face remained blank he smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Kurt Vonnegut reference. You'd have to be a bit geeky to get it. That's why they don't let me do stand-up comedy.'

Cassie laughed, shaking her head. She looked back towards the room. 'How long do we give them?'

Phil shrugged. 'As long as they need. They'll come out and find us when they're ready.'

Phil crumpled up the plastic cup with a crunching pop and threw it into the bin. It missed, hit the rim and dropped to the floor. He stooped to retrieve it and place it in the overflowing bin. Unsatisfied with its positioning on the top of a stack of other cups, he squeezed the contents down with his foot. Phil looked up at Cassie. 'My foot's stuck in the bin.' Cassie bent down and held the bin whilst he extracted his foot.

'Thanks'

Cassie smiled at him. 'You're a funny man Phil.'

---

The medical books were very thick and heavy. They had many diagrams and pages with tiny little writing, but Felipe's eyes were good and his memory excellent. Grandfather had some of these books, but they were old and dog eared. Although the books Tia Kathy had given him had a few dog ears, they were merely the caresses from the previous students. A few of the books were bright, fresh new editions still smelling of the press when he unwrapped them from their plastic. Tia Kathy had taken an office from the second floor and turned it into a small world just for Felipe, complete with bed, study desk and computer. A small kitchen on the floor below provided enough cooking space for him to enjoy a meal now and then with the computer people, or the guards. Everybody was so friendly. Tia Kathy had promised that if he was diligent and thorough, she would help him to enter an American University and to learn the secrets of the medical doctors; just as long as he was careful to conceal his special gifts from God.

And so Felipe pored long and hard over the books, listened to Radio on the internet though his computer and cast sly, furtive glances at the pretty college girls who worked in the building sometimes.

The first indication that something was wrong was when the power failed. The lights flicked out for a moment and then they snapped back on. Somewhere in the bowels of the building a generator had automatically kicked on.

Felipe's computer was making an angry beeping sound as the backup kicked in. Despite the soundproofing of the glass windows, Felipe could hear what sounded like 'clicks' and then the unmistakeable sound of breaking glass. Felipe put his book aside and opened his door. He walked to the elevator, but the lights were flashing so he took the stairs and walks down a flight. Someone was coming up the stairs. Felipe started to smile, but then he saw that they were monsters. Monsters in colour splotches, wearing strange glasses that stuck out from their faces like an insect's proboscis. They might have been monsters, but monster didn't carry guns. Felipe waited while the monster ran up the stairs to the door. He hid against the wall on the stairs above them. They placed something on the door and then there was a tremendous crash and smoke and noise and the monsters ran into the corridor.

-

'FLUSH IT!' Greg yelled above the beeping of the injured machines. 'Flush it now!'

Carlsson ran around the room striking open the red plastic caps and turning the key. The servers popped and spluttered with sparks as small charges demolished their interior. Greg was typing as fast as he could on his remaining terminal. "Come on, Come ON!' he yelled at the machine.

From outside the room, a sonic boom echoed down the hallway. Carlsson and Greg both looked up, then to each other. 'The hell with this' Carlsson yelled and ran for the door. 'No!' Greg cried. Carlsson stepped out through the doorway and was arrested in his steps, his body jerking back and forth as quiet splinters of metal entered at his chest hip and thigh.

Greg turned away quickly and returned to his keyboard.

'MOVE AWAY FROM THE KEYBOARD' a voice yelled out from behind him. Greg nudged the enter key with his elbow and something swung around from behind him and connected with his temple, sending him reeling sideways in a shower of bright colours.

-

'Just tell him that our house has been burgled, he'll know…' Kathy heard the sound of the explosion. 'I've got to go. You make sure he gets the message.'

'Yes Ma'am' the phone chirped. Kathy put the mobile phone down. She walked over to the closet at the side of her office and keyed a special combination into the pad. The closet swung open, pre-lit, and two sealed hidden doors popped open. Kathy took out her old field issue sidearm and her vest and slipped her arms into it, strapping it up. She checked the pistol and put it into the sleeve at the side of the vest. Next, she selected a bull pup submachine gun and several clips. She checked her rig one last time and headed for the corridor.

Grey smoke was making the air hazy. She could see movement so she dropped into a crouch and fired off a few rounds into the mist. A male shout confirmed a hit so she waited a few seconds and fired another burst. The return fire strafed the corridor and she dodged quickly into one of the offices. At least three shooters. Where was security? Kathy positioned herself beside the door frame, counted to ten and then stuck the barrel around the corner and fired a burst straight down the wall. She heard the grunting sound of someone under the impact. 'Good' she thought. 'Got one of the bastards!'

A small clattering sound at the doorway made her turn in time to see the flash-bang grenade land. She closed he eyes as quickly as she could, but not quickly enough. The explosion blinded her and the sound roared in her ears. She ran in the last known direction of the door, firing blindly.

She felt the impact of the first slugs into her vest and the frightening tear of her flesh as one skirted the edge of the vest and pierced her side. She collided with the far wall with a shriek, still firing. Her world was white noise and pain, except for something off in the distance, something cool, dark and peaceful that beckoned to her.

-

The small man stepped over the body of Carlsson and nodded to one of the assailants. They lifted Gregs head. Greg smiled. 'Hi there.'

The small man pursed his lips. 'I appreciate a little humour at a time like this.'

Greg giggled. 'I'm concussed. Please excuse me.'

The small man looked around the room, breathing in the stench of burnt electronics. 'My my, you blew all this up just because of little old me? Seems a shame.'

'Sir!' said one of the armoured men. 'We've got a problem.'

The small man held his hand up. 'I don't suppose you've left any data laying around have you?'

Greg smiled and shook his head. 'Bits to bits, dust to dust.'

The small man nodded. 'Yes. I see.' He nodded and one of the guards raised a silencer and puffed out Greg's beautiful mind onto the screen of the computer. Gregs' body fell and lay still, leaking onto the floor.

The small man turned to the assault leader.

'Ok son. What's the trouble?'

'It's the Director, Sir. She took out one of my men.'

The small man nodded. 'I see. Is she…?'

The man nodded. 'Yes sir. We took her out.'

The small mans face grew even more pinched. 'Ah. That's a nuisance. Still, Semper Fi and all that.'

'Sir?'

'Don't worry about it son. There are always casualties in war. She was just on the wrong side. Now let's get one of these machines out of here and see what we can see.'

-

Green 2 finished rigging the primer cord down the hall way and attached a junction cord. The whole place was wired to go in under 90 seconds. 'Good to go' he called out, and then turned around, realising that the person behind him wasn't Green 1. It was some little guy with a dark complexion in a white lab coat. Green 2 started to draw his pistol. 'Shit. We missed one of them.' He thought to himself. He rose quickly and brought the pistol around to bear on the little guy as he rushed forward. The little guy grabbed Green 2's hands in a weak grip; Green 2 almost laughed and went to push the gun downwards and into the little guys' chest. A couple of short range shots would do it. Strangely, the little guys hands didn't resist, they…Green two watched as the fingers holding his knuckles slid beneath his skin. There was a pinch and he fingers opened and he dropped the gun. The little guys' hands slid up through his arms, pushing them open like a boat furrowing a wake, and closed around his windpipe. The little guy's attention suddenly shifted to the body lying further up the corridor and he and released him to fall backwards as the world greyed out.

-

'Tia Kathy! It's me, Felipe!'

Felipe rolled her over. She was shot and bleeding. The bullet had ripped through her side and was nestled in her lungs. Soon she would stop breathing. They called it a Pneumo Thorax in the US medical books. Felipe knew he must help her immediately. He lunged into her side. Kathy's eyes fluttered weakly, like the fingers of a climber trembling on the lip of a cliff. She was almost gone. Felipe closed the path the bullet had traced, naming the blood vessels and organs as he touched them. His grandfather, 'El Viejo' would be proud, for he left a seamless trail where the wounds had been. His fist captured the bullet and he pushed through to the other side and opened his palm, letting it drop out to the floor. Behind him, he heard a gasp. He had not killed the monster. He needed him. Felipe withdrew his hand and checked Aunty Kathy's eyes. 'Aunty Kathy, you are very hurt, but you will not die now. We will get you away from here.'

Felipe quickly turned around to the monster.

-

Green 2 swam back to the surface of consciousness as oxygen returned to his brain. The little guy in the white coat was pummelling the dead body beside the wall, punching it between the gaps in the vest, so hard that his arm came through the other side. The little guy then pulled his hand out of the body and turned around. Green two tried to struggle backwards but the little guy ran over and punched him hard in the stomach. There was a slight tugging sensation and then the little guy held up something bright and purple.

'This is your kidney. It will live a few minutes outside. If you help me to move my Aunt I will put it back for you. If not, I will take out your heart also.'

-

The vans' engine was running and the last of the technicians had been seated cross legged and flexi-cuffed on the floor.

'Green two is missing' The Assault leader reported.

The small man shrugged. 'Take the place down.'

'But Sir!'

The small man tapped his watch. 'We're on a clock here. Take it down.'

The Assault leader nodded and then snarled as soon as his face was turned. He took the detonator control from his pocket and pulled one of the batteries out.

'Sir!' he called, turning around. 'We have a problem with the detonator. Green 2 may not have finished the connections.'

The small man stamped his foot. 'Get in there and fix it then blow the goddam place, NOW! Do you understand me?'

The Assault leader nodded and went to salute. The small man watched his hand approaching the crest of the salute and snapped at him. 'Protocol you moron!' he yelled. The Assault Leader's hand retreated from the automatic salute. Protocol. No obvious identifying marks. He turned back to the building and started to run towards the courtyard where the big sculpture sat. He heard the first explosions as he neared the towering piece of metal. He took a last look at it and hight tailed it in the opposite direction as the explosions started their chain reaction around the corridors of the building.

The van was moving away and he had to run for the door and take a leap into the crowded rear. The explosions stopped as quickly as they had started, but the crackling roar of the incendiaries could be heard even above the whine of the engine and the crunching of the gravel as they hit the unsealed road.

The Assault leader took off his helmet and wiped his brow. Two men down and five wounded. 'SNAFU.', he muttered to the injured man beside him. The man smiled back, teeth brilliant white between the bandages. 'Yesssss' the man replied.

---

The bus dropped the last of the crew at the studio, for want of any better place to stop. The crew unloaded the bus quietly. Ronny came back to the mass assembled by the bus. 'They've locked us out.'

A collective groan went up from the crew. 'Ronny! Vicki!' a voice called from the building. They looked up to see the Reverend Thomas Marsden, bedecked in fishing gear, waving to them.

'I changed the locks!' he called out, smiling and waving.

Ronny grinned. 'Why'd you do that?'

'I'll come down and let you in. We've got some packing to do!' he called and disappeared from the window. A moment later, the doors were flung open and the reverend trotted out to meet them. The crew clustered around him, smiling and hugging. Vicki stayed at the rear of the crowd, standing near the band. The Reverend fought his way through. 'Vicky, you put on a hell of a show!' he said briskly.

'Do you hate me?' she asked, trembling. The Reverend laughed and hugged her. 'Don't be silly! You've put fire in my belly! What a hoot! I've never liked those guys anyway and you, you my boy…' The Reverend seized JJ's hands and shook them. 'Thank you son. Thank you for reminding us all what it's really about? You too, ah, err.'

'Rufus' Rufus added, leaning across JJ to shake the Reverends hands.

Josiah DeJean emerged from the bus where he had been in deep conversation with the Hitch Hiker and his Nephew.

'Reverend…' Josiah said uncertainly, stepping down from the bus. 'I'm sorry that…'

'Pshaw!' beamed the Reverend. 'I've already explained to your...ah...ex-chairman that my license is withdrawn until such time as you are reinstated. All of you.'

'What's with the locks?' Ronny asked.

The Reverend frowned. 'Ah…we're likely to have a moment's legal trouble with the EMA, so I thought it best to pre-empt any action on their part. Although the license is mine, I'm afraid they've got us for the lease of the studio. But I thought at the least we could get the gear out.'

'Why?' asked JJ, stunned.

The Reverend clapped him on the shoulder. 'Because you've got a show to do! Now all we need is a place to set up the studio…'

Ronny shook his head. 'Rev, if you don't mind me saying, you're off your rocker. We'd need to hump half the transmission gear out of here, not to mention a tower, let alone space…'

'If I may suggest.' said a dry voice. It was the Hitchhiker. 'I am overcome with the power of the Lord this day, your generous help to strangers in need. I can see now that is was meant to be.'

'Huh?' said Rufus.

'My friends, we have a place, ready and waiting to receive the faithful, just out of town. It's where we were headed when our car failed us. We have a community hall with a small stage and plenty of room. I'd be honoured if you would use it until you find suitable premises.'

'Hallelujah' cried Josiah DeJean. 'Amen' said the Reverend.

'We can't transmit!' Complained Ronny.

'Can't we still feed to cable? Maybe by tape or by stream?' asked Vicki.

Ronny pondered it, his face lighting up as he went through the permutations. 'You know…I could… If I can persuade one of the local channels to help us out, we could still broadcast on our frequency from their transmitter, so maybe...'' he started to see possibilities and grinned. 'Sure.'

'Wonderful!' cried Vicki, clapping her hands. Josiah's chest filled like a wind was blowing from behind him and filling the mainsail of his chest. 'Let's get this gear stripped down and loaded up.' He commanded.

'Hey, what about me?' said the bus driver, forlornly.

'Could you just hang around a while?' implored Vicki.

The bus driver jumped. 'Absolutely, long as you need.'

---

The ME's office had a faint underlying odour of chemical disinfectant. The ME was notoriously concerned about the smell of dead things and preferred an overzealous and potentially toxic cleaning agent be used throughout the building. Luka held his nose for a moment then realised the pointlessness of the action and gave up, taking deep breaths as he walked along the hallway and down the stairs. When he got to the lab, the smell diminished a fraction. 'Hey Luka.' Called out Joanne, the deputy ME.

Luka smiled at her. She was still considered a good 'catch' by the local police fraternity. Mount Doom was her other nickname. Bragging rights and a round of drinks was available to any local who managed to bag her. So far many had tried. Most were still licking their wounded egos.

Luka nodded affably. She was a scary lady so he wasn't going to try anything cute. 'Hi Joanne. What's up?'

Joanne held up two pieces of metal in evidence bags. 'Bingo!' she said.

'Huh?' Luka responded.

Joanne's face fell. 'A match. I got a match. Capiche?'

'Help me out here. What match for what?'

'The Jackson case. I've got a second bullet.'

This grabbed his attention and he rushed forward to examine the bags. 'You sure?'

Joanne frowned at him. 'Sergeant Jablonski...'

'Wachowski' Luka corrected irritably.

'Sorry, Sergeant Wachowski,' Joanne paused. 'What was I going to say?'

'I hope your bullet match is better than your name retention' Luka said under his breath. Joanne glared at him and continued. 'Bullet from crime scene A.' she held up the second bag. 'Bullet from crime scene B. Both 38's. Both fired from the same gun.'

Luka looked at the misshapen pieces of metal. '_Second_ crime scene? Oh boy.'

Joanne looked at him curiously. Luka was not quite in the present with her. She waved a hand in front of his face. 'Yes. The body of a forty year old woman shot once in the throat, severing an artery. The gun is the same as the one that killed Desmond Jackson. I thought you'd like to know.'

Luka nodded. 'Yeah. That's great. I mean, I'm glad we have a lead. Thanks for that Joanne. I'm really grateful' He started to move away from the counter.

'Grateful enough to pay for dinner?' Joanne asked flatly. Luka almost gasped, but he held it in. 'Uh, yeah. That'd be great.' She frowned at him 'No, really great' he added quickly. 'Uh. When?'

'Anytime you like.' Joanne said and handed him her card.

Luka took the card with a small amount of shock. 'Ok. I'll do that.' He started to walk away in somewhat of a daze. He stoped and turned around. 'Joanne, what was the name of the other victim, the woman?'

Joanne picked up her case file and opened it. 'Sarah, Sarah Wainright.'


	31. Chapter 30

When he saw the third ambulance hurtle past in the opposite direction, Steve pushed the pedal down and quickly hit one hundred.

Up ahead, a State Troopers car was blocking the road in his direction. He jammed the brakes on early and allowed the car to slow gracefully as he approached the block.

A trooper held up a hand and came forward to issue a warning.

Steve wound the window down and tried to look amiable. 'Evening officer.' Steve said.

The trooper made a 'turn around' gesture. 'You're gonna have to go back sir, this way's blocked.'

'I can see that' Steve said through teeth gritted together in a smile. Realising the futility of protesting, Steve opened the glove box and withdrew a wallet. He held up the ID. 'Can you move your cars out of the way?'

The trooper reached into the truck and took the ID, looked at it, then back to Steve. 'I don't know if…' the trooper said, shaking his head. 'I don't know if _that_ ID is, if it's, I gotta ask someone.'

Steve groaned. 'Hey fella, we both are going to feel a lot better about this if you just let me through. You understand?' Steve let the last bit become a threat.

The trooper was not impressed. 'How do I know that this is a real ID?'

Steve blinked. 'You're kidding me, right? I mean, how much of a dumb cluck can you...'

'Would you please step out of the car?' the trooper said, resting a hand on the butt of his pistol. 'Step out of the car.'

Steve felt a compulsion to just shoot the impediment to his progress and drive through. He must have twitched because the Trooper stepped back and started to draw his pistol. The other trooper at the roadblock quickly ran over. Steve put his hands on the window frame of the car.

'Get out of the car, now!' yelled the Trooper.

'If I take my hands off the frame here, you and Monty the Mountie are going to shoot me, so why don't you come over and open it for me.' Steve suggested. 'Morons with guns' he thought to himself. The troopers looked at one another.

'Here's an idea.' Steve added. 'One of you can get back in your car and move it out of the way before I make a phone call and have you both issuing tickets in a parking lot somewhere.'

The second trooper drew his pistol. 'Get out of the car, NOW!' he yelled. Steve considered the various options for hiding bodies, dismissed the idea and opened the car door.

---

'I'm afraid these feet are going to have to come off.' The doctor said quietly. 'How he could even walk on those feet...there's just too much gunk in them to clean out, he's going to wind up with an infection and it will kill him.'

The small man sighed. 'That's a shame. Isn't there some other way?'

The doctor's mouth gaped open. 'How about I just write him a prescription for some aspirin and…'

'Your sarcasm is not appreciated, Captain. It's an unusual case. You might need to think a little outside the box.'

The doctor looked back at the body on the gurney, still wrapped in bandages. 'You're telling me. _How_ did he sustain those wounds?'

The small man raised an eyebrow. 'How long have you been working intelligence, son?'

The Doctor stared him down. 'I _don't_ work intelligence. I sew up the bits when you're finished.'

The small man nodded. 'So you do. Now that we have established what we both do for our country, you go attend the wounds of that brave bastard on the table and leave the questions to me.'

The Doctor closed his mouth and said nothing. The small man smiled. 'Why don't you go grab a coffee or something instead? I want to talk to the major for a minute anyhow.'

The Doctor frowned but left the tent with one last look over his shoulder.

The small man walked over to the gurney. The figure in bandages was looking up at him.

'Are you in pain Major?' the small man asked. The thing in bandages made a bubbling sound.

'I'm sorry about all this.' The small man said, coming to stand at the head of the gurney. 'The plane will be here at 0200 and we'll get you somewhere a bit more friendly. Hell of a thing you did, Major. I'm damn impressed.'

'The….girrllll…' sighed the thing on the gurney.

'I'm afraid the Director was a casualty in the last action.' The small man replied.

'The _girllll_…'

'Ah' said the Small Man. 'Yes. _That_ girl. All in due course Major. Once you've been fully debriefed, we can see about resolving that matter to your satisfaction.'

A uniformed figure rapped at the edge of the door. 'Sir! The plane's on wheels down.'

'Very good. Start loading up the…enemy combatants.'

'Yes Sir!' the solider said and snapped his hand to his temple in salute.

'Wheerrrr…..arrree…weeee…..goinnnnnggg' whispered the burned man.

The small man looked down at him. 'Somewhere with a friendly disposition and a secure facility, free from all those prying eyes. We've used the place for rendition a few times.'

The small man turned his head to the door where the sounds of people moving could be heard. As he looked back, he noticed that the bandaged hand had risen from the gurney. Feeling a little awkward, he held the hand lightly. 'We'll get you the best medical assistance we can Major, we will…'

The bandaged hand closed around his fingers started to crush them. The small man tried to pull away and found himself being drawn downwards. He struggled to pull his pistol from the shoulder holster, yelling at the bandaged man. 'Major, what the..'

The thing pulled him down onto the gurney, rolling on top of him and closing two wrapped hands around his throat. Its eyes came down closer and closer until they hovered above the small mans face, staring into it as the wetness from the skinless hands soaked through the bandages and around his throat, still failing to loosen the iron grip. The lights began to dim.

John Rainbird looked into the eyes of the small man as he passed into the next life.

Once again, it was an empty vision. He released the body and sat back upright.

-

Felipe watched from the shadows, waiting whilst they put Tia Kathy into the first ambulance. He had not waited with her; he knew it wasn't safe, just as he had known someone would come to help.

He had left her with her head propped up with a jacket belonging to the monster who he had stolen the organ from. Felipe left him cowering in the foetal position beside Tia Kathy. The monster would recover, but Felipe didn't feel like he needed any sympathy. The emergency people arrived like a travelling carnival. They had many vehicles, bright searchlights and flashing blue and red, yellow lights and loud sirens. They screeched to a halt and milled about the entrance like angry ants.

He watched as they found Tia Kathy and the bad man on the ground and brought stretchers to take them into the ambulances.

When the last of the ambulances had pulled away and the fire department had settled in to monitor the final moments of the blaze, Felipe began to wonder what to do next.

A black town car had parked in between the ambulances, revealed only as they left. Some men were talking to the fire department. One of them seemed to look in Felipe's direction, so he ducked his head back into the bushes.

The man from the car ambled over in his direction with a tap-tap sound. Felipe chanced another look and saw the man was old, wearing sunglasses at night. How cool these Americans must be, Felipe thought, to wear sunglasses at night. Then he considered the cane as well and realised the man must be blind. Felipe decided it was time to leave and started to move off through the undergrowth.

"Hey!' called the blind man. Felipe didn't stop, he kept moving. 'Hey, Felipe!' called the man.

Felipe stopped moving and turned around.

'It's a long walk to the next town. You sure you wouldn't rather ride with us?'

Felipe stepped out from the bushes, still a safe distance away. He could run if he needed to. The blind man turned unerringly to the spot where he stood. 'There you are!' he said kindly.

"How do you know my name?' Felipe asked.

The man chuckled. 'Katherine, Kathy, she told me all about you, how you're studying medicine, how one day she thinks you could be a great doctor.'

Felipe still tensed in case he needed to vanish, but the name held him back. 'How did you know I was here?'

'The paramedics found the holes in her side; they're trying to work out where the bullets went. I think I know. Do you?'

Felipe grinned. 'She is ok?'

The man nodded. 'You did just fine Felipe. You saved her life. I am very grateful.'

Felipe blushed under the praise. 'It was nothing, she is very beautiful and good, Tia Kathy, the bad men who came tried to kill her.'

The man nodded. 'Yes, she is, and you did very well to keep her safe until we arrived. Do you know what happened to the rest of the people?'

Felipe pointed down the road. 'They went in a van with more monsters. The bad man who helped me move Tia Kathy said we must blow up the building or they would come back looking for us. I am sorry.'

Felipe realised the blind man had grown closer, close enough for Felipe to see into him. 'Your eyes are not broken.' Felipe observed through the sunglasses.

The man nodded. 'But I do not see. It's an old injury.'

'How did it happen?' Felipe asked.

The man sighed. 'No ones asked me that in a long time. If you drive back to the hospital with me, to check on Aunt Kathy, I will tell you. Deal?'

Felipe thought about it for a moment. 'Ok. We will go to the hospital.'

---

The mountains had bred little hills in their shadow, like stepping stools used by giants to climb to the clouds. Where the mountains were rugged, the hills still afforded some plant cover and moisture. It wedged a layer of air rising from the tops of the hills and halting against the settling cold coming down from the mountains.

Homesteaders had initially just dotted the tops of the hills with their homes. In these days of heavy machinery, some could now afford to saw the tops of the hills off and make a nice flat plate for a perfect house with commanding views of their valley.

In the lee of two hills, someone had built a community around an old stone church. High above the church, the hill had been cracked open like the top of a boiled egg and a large ranch style house brooded above the picket fences and whiteboard sides of the houses below.

'It's lovely!' exclaimed Vicki. The bus began winding its way down the hill towards a set of gates. As they dipped into the lee of the valley, the hills grew around them and the settlement disappeared from view. The gates were wooden and unimposing. The nephew of their host hopped down from the bus and ran to open them, waving them through and then rejoining them once the gates had been closed on the other side.

'Where the hell have we landed' Rufus murmured quietly to JJ. JJ shushed him and the bus rode silently up a rise. People were emerging from their homes and coming towards them as the bus stopped. Daniel stepped down from the bus and hugged one of the men assembled to greet them. 'It's good to see you.' said the man.

Daniel gestured towards the bus. 'These are the people I was telling you about, fine people who helped Aaron and me in a time of need. They need our help to keep spreading the gospel.'

The man nodded. 'Amen to that. Well, we got the hall cleared out just like you said. I can help them get their stuff round back if you want.'

Daniel hugged him again. 'It's good to be back.' He turned to Josiah. 'This here is James.'

Josiah stepped down from the bus and pumped his arms in a two handed shake. 'Josiah DeJean. Pleasure to meet you.'

The Reverend stepped down next. 'I'm Thomas.'

'You a fisherman?' James asked, looking at his getup.

'A fisher of men' said a voice from the rear of the bus. JJ and the band pressed forward, Vicki in the vanguard. '_Reverend_ Thomas' Vicki said, alighting quickly from the bus and correcting the matter.

James scratched his head. '_Reverend?'_

The Reverend clapped him on the shoulder. 'God also made trout my boy.'

James laughed. As JJ and the band disembarked his eyes widened "I've seen you fellers before, on the TV!'

Rufus grinned. 'Hallelujah!'

This sparked a chorus of beatifications to the lord from the assembling crowd of men and women. 'What have I started?' Rufus said slyly, nudging JJ.

'James here will take you down to the hall as soon as you unpack. Y'all are welcome here as long as you may need.'

Daniel stepped away without making any goodbyes, guiding James away from the throng.

'Praise the lord that you're back and whole' James said to him as they walked arm in arm.

'It's been a long long time James. I wasn't sure you'd stayed faithful.'

James stopped walking. 'How can you say that? You know I'd never turn my back on you. When the call went out, we were filled with joy!'

Daniel looked around the buildings. 'You built'em like I said?'

'Each one, to the letter. Your friends were real helpful with their money.' James grinned.

Daniel had drawn them far enough away from the main group that he could speak at a normal volume. 'You've done a fine job here James. A fine job.'

James clasped him to his chest. 'It's good to have our prophet back!' His face was lit up, his eyes sparkling. Daniel frowned and disengaged himself, moving away. 'I'm not the prophet James, I'm sorry.'

James's face fell. 'What are you talking about, this is the day we've been dreaming of for all these years, a chance to do it right'

Daniel raised a hand to silence him. James drew quiet.

'I'm just saying that I'm not the prophet. I'm just a regular sinner, just like anyone else. But I feel that the lord is upon me James, I truly do. I can feel his guiding hand in each step I take.' He paused. 'Still, I was sure Sarah would have come to greet me.'

James frowned. 'We haven't seen Sarah. We haven't seen her in some time.'

-

When the gear was assembled, Ronny gave the nod and the lights cascaded into life. JJ raised a hand to protect his eyes from the sudden glare, but the band was already into it.

'Coming to you live from the…where are we?' Ronny put his hand over the mike. Josiah looked startled. 'Uh we're…' he trailed away. The Reverend shrugged.

Ronny scowled at the two of them. '….We're Live!' Ronny continued into the mike. 'On the EVM network!' Ronny quickly shut the mike off. 'this is going out _really_ live so lets try and find out we're we are for the next one, yeah?'

The Reverend tapped his foot as the music played. 'You know Victoria; I always thought you'd do something special.'

'It's Vicki.' She responded, looking straight ahead.

'Sorry?' asked the Reverend, bemused.

Vicki turned to look at him. 'It's Vicki, Reverend, not Victoria. It's always been just Vicki.'

The Reverend looked abashed. 'My girl, I'm so sorry. Why didn't you correct me?'

Vicki blanked out for a moment. The Reverend grew concerned and reached for her.

'It's no big deal', she said, eventually.

The Reverend smiled. 'Of course it is a big deal. I am glad you picked me up on it. I never got the chance to ask you, how's your mother doing?'

Vicki's hand went to her mouth. 'Oh my. I don't know.'

'You didn't call her to let her know you're home?'

Vicki shook her head. 'No. I forgot.'

The Reverend sighed. 'I knew there are still some unresolved issues between you and her' he raised a hand. 'Ah, don't deny it. Still, I think it would be good to call her. I think she'd be glad to hear from you.'

Something in his tone puzzled her. 'Sorry, Reverend. Is everything ok? I mean, with Mom?'

The Reverend winced. 'She's all right, but there was a fire at the farm, I can't for the life of me figure out why I didn't tell you before. I came looking for you when I heard about it, that's when I found out you'd gone to Memphis, and well, I guess I got a little carried away with all the goings on.'

Vicki turned around and ran for the door.

From the stage, JJ saw Vicki running out, the Reverend running after her. He felt a sudden need to drop his guitar and follow, but the song demanded his attention and he went back to the microphone to sing the next line.

---

A nerf football came out of nowhere and ricocheted off the side of the office cubicle. Rogers got to his feet and barked. 'Hey! Who threw that?'

A couple of the junior detectives were smirking. Rogers rolled up his sleeves and prepared to slap one of them.

'Psst.' said a voice.

Rogers looked down and saw another nerfball as it struck the bridge of his nose. Roaring with rage, Rogers charged at his assailant, down on his haunches beside the cubicle.

The assailant sprang backwards, laughing. Rogers was about to throttle the guy when he realised who it was. 'Oh fer crying out loud.' he growled, unclenching his fist. 'What are you, five years old?'

Luka got to his feet. 'I owed you.'

'What the hell for?'

'You got a case that's connected with my homicide and I had to find out about it from the M.E.' Luka said, looking distinctly unamused.

Rogers grimaced. 'What the hell are you talking about?' He stopped and picked up the nerfball, squeezed it up and threw it in the waste basket.

Luka maintained his distance. 'Wainright, Sarah J.'

Rogers looked nonplussed. 'Who?'

'Female, Caucasian, late thirties, single GSW to the neck.'

Rogers shook his head. 'You mean; Hollis, Sarah J. What's it got to do with you?'

'Can we at least sit down?' Luka asked.

Rogers looked at him unpleasantly. 'You threw a nerfball at my head.'

'It's true. I did that. Wanna throw one back? Free shot?'

Rogers sat down on the edge of a desk and crossed his arms. 'You are as crazy as everyone says you are, Wachowski. Did you know people say that about you?'

'Uh huh' Luka said, nodding. 'I cultivate it. Keeps the bad guys on their toes.'

Rogers had to laugh. 'You are one wacky sumbitch Wachowski. All right, let's start at the top. Hollis, Sarah Josanna. COD you already know. Let me get the case file...' Rogers said and leant back over his desk to grab a manila folder with papers clipped to it. 'She had a rap sheet for receiving stolen goods, some petty larceny. Someone shot her and left her for dead in her apartment. Place was turned over pretty good. We got plenty of prints. We're looking at her son; Hollis, Aaron, as the shooter, or maybe involved some way. He's in the wind.'

'Her kid?'

'Yeah. He's got a more interesting sheet. Tweaker. Busted for Possession with Intent and Carrying Concealed.'

'Gun?' Luka inquired.

'Knife. Maybe he graduated. Maybe they had an argument. Maybe she made the wrong offer to a thief.'

Luka dismissed the notion. 'Thieves don't usually shoot their fences, so the kids' definitely worth looking at.'

'What did you think her name was?' Rogers asked, picking up a pen.

'Wainright.'

Rogers checked through his file. 'No mention of that here. How'd you come by it?'

'The M.E did.' Luka shuddered. 'On physical exam. She had…she had a burn pattern on her, pretty distinctive. They have a wound-matching system now; they take photos of victims for the records.'

'Ok. So the Vic changed her name. Thanks Luka. That might help. How does it get me a nerfball at my head?'

Luka pulled a seat out and sat down. 'Round from the same gun took my guy. Shot in the back. Desmond Jackson. According to the ME, he got whacked a day earlier.'

Rogers whistled. 'I didn't know. I _would_ have called. So we're looking for the same shooter.'

'Same gun. _Probably_ the same shooter. You had any…um…' Luka gestured skywards. 'You had any calls from upstairs?'

Rogers looked at him curiously. 'You're pointing at the light bulb, Wachowski. It doesn't say very much to me.'

Luka made a wry face.

'No, nobody's called me.' Rogers answered. 'Why? They call you?'

Luka gazed around the office. The junior officers had withdrawn seeing no more fun to be had. 'Yeah' he said finally. 'It's the name.'

'Wainwright?' said Rogers, his eyebrows slanting upwards. 'Not as in…. I never ran _that_ name. What happens if I do?'

Luka tapped the side of his head. 'The Bureau sends flowers.' Luka looked around and about them to ensure he was not being overheard. 'Jackson was visiting the widow of one of the Wainrights just before he got killed, Sarah's sister-in-law.'

This caught Rogers' attention. He stopped writing.

'I'm starting to wonder if someone was cleaning house.' Luka suggested.

Rogers tapped his teeth with the pen. 'Is the in-law dead?'

Luka shook his head. 'I interviewed a witness who was there when Jackson visited. I think he scared Jackson off before it got to that.'

Rogers scribbled notes in the margins of his pad. 'And then Jackson gets killed by the same gun that then killed Hollis…Wainright' Rogers corrected himself. 'And you say that the timings close?'

Luka nodded. 'The M.E said no more than 48 hours.'

'She coulda called _me_' Rogers grumbled.

'I thought I'd come down myself.' Luka said, smiling.

Rogers threw the nerfball back at him. "So I guess we'll be working this together?'


	32. Chapter 31

Felipe liked riding in the expensive cars. They smelled of leather and whiskey. On the way to the hospital, he remembered that he had been promised an explanation.

As if sensing it, Great Uncle Jim was happy to oblige.

'Listen well Felipe, for I have only told this story a couple of times. Once upon a time, when I was a young man, I worked for some bad people. The same people who sent the monsters. My job was to do what I was told and not to ask questions, so you could say that I was a monster as well. One day, they asked me to go to a house and collect some people. I didn't know these people. It was a man and a wife and a young girl. When we came to their house, there was a struggle and the wife was killed. When the man found out we had killed his wife, he cursed me. He said to me, 'you're blind.' And so I was. From that moment.'

Felipe nodded. 'He was right to curse you'

The blind man laughed. 'Yes, I guess your right Felipe. We _did _deserve it. I have spent the last thirty years trying to atone for what I did.'

Felipe felt sad for his Great Uncle. 'You did not mean to kill her. Maybe you can ask for forgiveness? You are not a monster anymore!'

The blind man shook his head. 'I don't even know if he _could_ have removed the curse, even if he wanted to, when he was still alive. The same bad people I worked for killed him.'

Felipe left the back eat of the car and hugged his Great Uncle.

The blind man smiled in surprise. 'It's ok Felipe. Sometimes we just have to bear the cost of our actions.'

Felipe sat back down. 'But maybe someone else can help.'

'No Felipe. When the man died, his power passed from the world.'

Felipe shrugged. 'My grandfather did not pass his power to my father. He passed it to me. You said there was a child?'

The blind man sat up. 'Felipe, you are truly a smart man. I don't think Aunt Kathy has any idea how clever you are.'

Felipe beamed. The blind man flicked an intercom switch. 'Tom, please get me a secure line out.' He tuned his blind eyes back to Felipe. 'I think I know why the bad men came again.'

---

The Concierge was reading a racy bodice ripper under the low illumination of the front desk light. He looked up as a large figure obscured the light form the front door. The man grinned at him and rang the bell in front of him. The concierge put his book discreetly aside under some paperwork and made a sour face that said 'I'm right in front of you, idiot.'

Phil grinned some more. 'Sorry, I just couldn't resist it. Anyhoo, I'd like to book a couple of rooms.'

The concierge stood up and shook away his displeasure, but regarded the man in farmers' overalls with a slightly disbelieving look. 'I _see._ Mr…'

'Doctor Rachmann.' Phil provided.

The concierge blinked in surprise. '_Dr?'_

Phil leaned over the desk. 'Three doctorates. You want to see my gown?'

The concierge wilted under the enormous press of air that descended on him as Phil moved forward. He was smiling, but scary.

'Ah yes. Certainly, what would you...'

Phil produced a wad of vouchers and dropped them onto the counter top. 'I need three rooms, three _nice_ rooms.'

The concierge looked at the vouchers, slightly squeezed together from being in Phil's pocket. He picked them up and began separating them. He noted the code on the side of the voucher and immediately tried to refresh his approach.

'Certainly Dr Rachmann. Can we get your luggage?'

Phil shook his head. 'I'll be back later with our stuff. We'll be staying a while. Can you give me the room numbers and keys?'

The concierges' fingers flew across his keyboard. 'May I have the names of the other guests?'

Phil shook his head. 'They'll all be booked under my name.'

The concierge opened his mouth to say something, looked at Phil and decided against it. 'Right you are, _Dr._' He tapped the keys. 'There we are. I'll just get your room cards.'

Phil nodded. 'Have you got a phone I can use?'

---

Charlie looked up from her hands. She had been crying.

John Redman was propped up at an angle, drinking in her story.

'And that's all I remember.' She said and dried her eyes.

John scowled. 'No it's not.'

'The hell it isn't' she snapped back at him, then covered her mouth. 'I'm sorry.'

'Its ok, I didn't mean to be rude, it's just that you're not telling me the _whole_ truth. I can sense it.' He tried rolling over to touch her. Charlie pulled away and John sat back.

'A truck driver dropped me off near the farm. When Cynthia saw me, she just hugged me. Ben took me in and he said that no matter what, I could stay with them as long as I wanted.' Charlie sniffed.

John looked around the ceiling for inspiration. 'What about after you went to the press?'

Charlie shrugged. 'They ran the article. It got picked up by the New York Times. After that, I thought they'd leave us alone.'

'Didn't the president offer a public apology?' john asked.

Charlie laughed. 'Yeah. Somehow _our_ project didn't get mentioned, but I guess so.'

'And the last time you saw John…my uncle…was at the barn. You burned it down.'

Charlie gulped but nodded. 'I fried those bastards. I…' anger had risen in her, the warm feeling. Charlie bit it back. 'I swear to you, that's all I remember. He cut me or something and I burned them.'

'He drugged you.' John replied.

Charlie's eyes widened. 'What?'

John made a wry face. 'I saw it. I saw a vision of it. My uncle…he…he tried to knock you out and then kill your father. He was.' John looked away. 'He was _saving_ you.'

Charlie shuddered. 'For later?'

John said nothing.

Charlie shook her head. 'If that bastard died a thousand deaths, it wouldn't be enough.'

Johns hand gripped hers suddenly. 'Do you really think that Charlie? Do you still hold your anger so dearly that a thousand deaths would not be enough?'

Charlie inhaled sharply, unable to pull away from his grip. 'You need to let me go' she warned him. Johns hand sprang open and a glazed expression melted away from his eyes. 'Oh boy. I didn't, I wasn't'

Charlie rubbed her wrist. 'Don't do that again John Redman. I don't like it.'

John watched her carefully. 'My bad.' He said simply. 'But you're still missing something from your story.'

'What?' Charlie demanded.

'What your father said to John Rainbird.'

Charlie stood up and stormed around the room. 'I can't believe I am even talking about this with you. John's fucking dead. He's dead dead dead dead!' she shouted.

The water in the IV bag beside the bed began to bubble. John quickly pulled the IV from his arm. The monitor by the bed responded with a dismal beeping until John reached down and pulled the plug from the wall. He sat back upright.

'Forever.' John Redman said to her.

'What?' Charlie said, lowering her arms.

'Your father said Forever. When John Rainbird drugged you, your father thought he had killed you. He thought John was afraid of the flames, so he said something to him, to punish him for killing his precious child, for the death of your mother, for all the evils perpetrated against you.'

The blood drained from Charlies face.

John continued. 'He said to him, 'you are going to burn. Burn forever.'

Charlie sank down onto her haunches.

'Charlie, John Rainbird is alive and burning and he can never, ever die. Is that revenge enough for you?' John cast his legs over the edge of the bed and shuffled forward.

'Where are you going?' Charlie said, standing up quickly.

'I don't know' John confessed. Charlie put a hand out and helped to steady him. 'I'm coming too.'

---

The new uniform made Jeffrey's skin itch. He hated the damn thing. It made the bumpy ride in the transport aircraft that one little bit more abhorrent than he could bear. They touched down at the airfield and the place bumped and slid to a halt. The two men in battledress on either side of him remained motionless. Jeffrey longed to jump up from his seat and run screaming down the length of the plane. This whole thing had become a nightmare. Ejected from Washington and his post. Assigned to a gulag. It rankled on multiple levels.

Firstly, his commission reactivation had been immediate. Secondly, he had been posted to some obscure transport base in Wichita. Thirdly, his brief stay had been interrupted by the arrival of two men who had manhandled him into a transport plane and were guarding him even now.

When no one moved, he eventually sighed and turned to look at the first of his captors. 'You're not wearing any rank. You do realise I'm a captain?'

The soldier said nothing.

'Am I right in saying your orders were to bring me here?'

The soldier remained motionless, save an imperceptible movement of his hairless head that may have signified a yes. Using his best lawyerly instincts, Jeffrey went for a kill shot. 'If your orders were to deliver me here, I'd be right in saying they were completed?'

The soldier turned to look at him and nodded.

Jeffrey smiled, glimpsing hope. 'Thanks soldier. I'll be going now.' Jeffrey stood up quickly. The two soldiers rose on either side as he stood.

Jeffrey looked from side to side. 'So I guess your coming with me?'

'Yes Sir!' said the first soldier. Jeffrey grimaced. 'Fine with me, as long as we don't sit on this damned aircraft anymore. Anyway, where the hell are we?'

'Don't know sir!' said the soldier.

'Great' mused Jeffrey. 'Ok, well let's get out of here and find out what's going on. You, what's your name.'

'Alvarez, Sir!' said the second soldier.

'Ok Alvarez, get us off this fucking plane.'

Alvarez saluted and ran forward to the cockpit. He banged on the door and a creaking grinding noise signalled the rear ramp opening.

Jeffrey clapped his hands together. 'Oh thank Christ.' He quickly scampered down the ramp as it opened all the way to the ground.

The airfield was lit at its edges by towered lights. An ambulance sat with a lazy blinking light near the buildings on the side of the airstrip. As Jeffrey started towards them, the sound of gunfire erupted from the building and he and his guards dropped to the ground. Jeffrey lifted his head and saw flashes of automatic fire. A soldier was running into the building. As he reached the door, a bright orange flash shattered the glass panels and the soldier sprawled sideways at an unnatural angle. From the buildings, a shambling figure in a uniform hobbled towards the ambulance. One of his guards drew a pistol. Jeffrey touched the soldiers' hand. 'No.' he said. The soldier looked back uncomprehendingly at him.

'He's got a rifle soldier. Wait until he gets into the ambulance and puts his hands on the wheel.'

The soldier nodded and they rose to a crouch. The ambulances engine started up and it turned towards them, the lights shining. Jeffrey put his hand up in front of his face as the ambulance turned and the engine revved. His guard adopted a firing stance and began blasting away at the ambulance. The vehicle roared away from them towards the gates.

For an instant, Jeffrey saw the face of the driver. The image wouldn't leave his head.

'Enough, enough.' he yelled at the soldiers. ''Cease fire!' he tried instead as they failed to stop. 'Cease fire'

The two soldiers lowered their pistols.

'What the hell was that' the one who wasn't Alvarez asked 'Sir.', he added quickly as Jeffrey raised an eyebrow.

'The hell if I know Soldier. Let's go see what there is to see.'

They ran over to the buildings where the soldiers' body lay. Alvarez checked his pulse and shook his head. Jeffrey stepped gingerly over the broken glass. 'What the hell…'

Bodies were strewn about the corridor and a haze of smoke filled the hall. Jeffrey stepped deeper into the mess. 'Um. You, what's your name.' he said to the other soldier who had picked up a discarded rifle and was checking the action.

'Bacon, Sir!' the soldier replied.

'Ok Bacon, I want you to check these rooms out.' Jeffrey said uncertainly. Bacon looked back to Alvarez who shrugged.

'Yes sir.'

Bacon carefully picked his way down the corridor.

'You, Alvarez, see if any of these people are still…'

Alvarez nodded and bent to check each of the bodies.

'Sir!' yelled Bacon from further down the corridor. Jeffrey and Alvarez ran down to the door and found a makeshift medical station setup in the room. On the gurney, a small man was lying, his throat crushed in.

Jeffrey stepped into the room and over to the body, his face drawn and white with shock. 'Holy shit.' He said to himself. He leaned over the gurney and placed a disbelieving hand on the small mans face. It was still warm. A buzzing from the small mans chest made him jump. Jeffrey heard a disturbingly metallic click' and looked around to see Alvarez with a rifle pointed at him. Jeffrey blanched.

'It's the body, Sir. There's something in his pocket.' The soldier said, pointing towards the gurney.

Jeffrey let out a breath and turned back to the gurney. He felt for pockets under the jacket and withdrew a small wireless PDA phone. He turned back to show Alvarez. The gun was mercifully pointed at the ground.

'Well?' said Alvarez. 'Are you gonna answer it?'

'Sir!' Bacon yelled from down the corridor. 'I've found survivors!'

---

The gate was padlocked shut. Vicki thought it was pointless as you could just jump the low fence at the side, but it scared her. The gate was _never _locked.

From the road, everything still looked normal. The fields. The plastic humps of the plastic greenhouses Phil was so fond of.

Vicki hopped the fence and walked straight up the path. The house quickly came into view and she stopped, clasping her hands to her face. The whole front of the house had been caved in, like a smashed skull. Bits of its teeth lay in the garden, jagged splinters of the porch. The hole in the front of the house was blackened. The insulation in the roof had bubbled and dropped down like hot marshmallow. Vicki took the scene in with a sense of guilt as she realised that her old room at the back of the house had been spared and was grateful for it. She picked her way through the ruin of the front door and stepped into the house.

"Mom?' she called. Vicki quickly ran back out and around to the rear of the house and the barn. The door was locked. Vicki hammered on the door. 'Mom? Mom?'

-

A car pulled away from the gates as Rogers drove towards it. Rogers quickly noted down the license plate, probably just a local gawker. He drew the car over to the side of the road, near the gate and parked. Faintly, in the distance, he heard yelling. Checking his holster, he hopped over the fence and ran up to the house.

A willowy young woman was running down the path. Rogers ran an interception path. 'Whoa there little lady!' he said, catching her as she barrelled into him. She had tears in her eyes and a wild, frightened look. She struggled.

'Rogers held up his badge, keeping a hold of her arm with his spare hand. 'Slow down there. I'm a cop, ok! Ok?'

Vicki stopped struggling. 'I have to get to the store. They'll know where she is!' she said urgently.

'Where who is?' Rogers asked, his eyes narrowing.

'My mom!' panted Vicki. 'My mom, the house is burned, I...'

Rogers put his badge away. 'Are you related to Charlie Wainright?'

Vicki looked at him in shock. 'She's my mom. Is she hurt, is she?'

Rogers rocked backwards as if struck by a powerful blow. 'No!' he rushed to say. 'She didn't get hurt. I was told she had a problem with a gas cylinder and someone who was visiting her got hurt. I was coming to ask her a few questions. My so-called partner on this case doesn't want to come across with much information on her so I thought I'd check it out myself. It's all very strange.'

Rogers shut his mouth a suddenly as he had opened it. 'Ok. Well. Do you know where your mom is?'

Vicky shook her head. 'Erles will know. We'll drive over and…'

Rogers raised an eyebrow. 'Someone was giving you a lift?'

Vicki nodded. 'Aaron. Aaron drove me.'

The hairs on the back of Rogers's neck stood up. 'Aaron?'

Vicki nodded.

'Well I'm afraid your ride kind of took off when I pulled over…' Rogers said.

'Will you drive me there?' Vicki implored him.

Rogers felt for his car keys. 'Absolutely. Let's go!' he said cheerfully, suddenly forgetting all about Aaron.

---

Rufus was lying on his back with a towel over his face, in the tall grass outside the community hall.

JJ dropped beside him and lay down.

Rufus lifted the towel over his eye. 'How you holding up bro?'

JJ shrugged. 'I don't know. It's like I'm on a rollercoaster.'

Rufus sat up and looked around. 'Where's your _producer_?' he asked slyly, making the word sound pornographic.

'Give me a break man.' JJ said and rolled over. 'I just can't work her out.'

Rufus watched the children playing down by the church. 'This is a nice place. Are we going to go back into town or what?'

'I don't know. They said we could stay here if we wanted.'

'Great!' Rufus said and lay back down. 'Wake me for dinner.'

-

At the community table, Ronnie was fitting batteries into the wireless microphone set. They were proving difficult to insert. The Reverend walked over and pulled up a chair.

'Ronald!' he said, smiling. 'You've worked miracles.'

Ronny looked up and grinned. 'Not me. She's a hell of a girl, isn't she Reverend?'

'Vicki?' The reverend asked.

Ronny laughed. 'You finally got her name right.'

The reverend laughed as well, then looked serious and said quietly. 'Your full name _is_ Ronald, isn't it?'

Ronny nodded. 'Ronald's fine with me Reverend.'

The batteries snapped into place with a satisfying click and Ronny put the set down. 'Ok.' He said. 'We're ready for tomorrow.'

'What's happening tomorrow?' The reverend asked. Ronny looked around the room. 'Josiah says we've got to keep a show on each day to stick to the contract. He's afraid if we stop transmitting, they can shut us down straight away. It's a wonder they haven't pulled a favour and had us turned off anyway.'

'The lord works in mysterious ways.' The reverend said, looking up towards the sky.

With a glance at the men and women of the community coming into the hall for supper, Ronny had to agree. 'Yes Reverend, he surely does'


	33. Chapter 32

The police cruiser had a deck of electronics gear sitting in the centre console. Rogers put Vicki into the passenger seat and set off following her directions into town without protest. Vicki looked glumly out of the window, feeling strangely calm.

'Does your mom have a mobile?' Rogers asked, eager to help.

'She doesn't believe in them.' Vicki said flatly.

'What about you? Do you have one? Maybe she left a message?'

Vicki looked at the Detective in surprise.

'What?' he said. 'You don't have one either?'

She began fumbling in her small carry bag, too plain to be called a purse. 'Of course I have one. I didn't think of it.' Vicki said, turning the phone on and watching as the little graphics bar flashed until she had a signal. The moment the LCD screen icon stabilised, the phone began bleeping and flashing with message and text alerts.

'Oh bother.' Vicki said, scolding herself for being so stupid. She dialled the voicemail number.

'Your message box is full.' The mailbox voice warned.

Vicki smiled at Rogers. 'It's full; they must have been trying to call me. I've been away for a few days.' She explained.

He nodded, agreeing with her. 'That's great.' He said, turning in the direction of town.

'Message one.' The voicemail box announced, giving her the date and time. It was an old message. 'Hi Vicki? This is Carla Cressley from Channel 11, I just saw some footage from your show in Memphis and my producers were wondering if…'

Vicki skipped the message but sent it to the save box. Publicity on the free to air stations would really help, but she could call them back. The next message was from another reporter, so were the following ones. Vicki skipped each one, filing it away, searching for something, anything, from…; the phone rang. She quickly discarded the voice mail call and answered.

'Phil?' she gasped into the phone.

'I can be Phil if you want me to be!' said the caller cheekily. 'I'm looking for Vicki Manders. This is the Early Shift calling for Vicki Manders'

Rogers looked over to her. 'You ok?'

'It's a radio station' she whispered. 'Sorry, I can't talk right now.' she replied to the caller. There was a clicking sound and a new voice spoke.

'That's a shame, because we're on LIVE RADIO!' said the voice. There was hooting and honking in the background.

'I'm sorry?' Vicki said, shaking her head.

The honking continued. 'Ok, Ok everybody settle down. Vicki, this is Tommy Zap and the Early Shift, we just _had_ to call you!'

'Cos we couldn't find anyone else to talk to!' said another voice and the background noise broke out again in honking and laughing. 'Hi Vicki, This is Frankie B, we're in the studio watching some uncensored clips of your show in Memphis!'. Applause. 'And we just wanted to talk to the brains behind the funniest religious moment we've seen in years!'

'Ok.' She replied. 'I'm glad you liked it.'

More hooting and strange cartoon noises. 'Yeah,' said the caller. 'Especially when your guy wigged out and started smashing stuff!' Laughter.

'Who knew Christian Rock was so…Rock!' said the other announcer, giggling.

Vicki frowned. 'He was doing the lords work!' she said, defending JJ. The phone line hooted and honked some more.

'Riiiiigght', said the announcer, 'We've been trying to get the band on the line, but no one seems to be able to find them, but our producers were able to track down your number. What are the chances of getting your boys to do a live set on the show?'

'We've got plenty of tables and chairs to throw around'. Guffawing.

Vicki's blood boiled. 'Sometimes God speaks to people who just aren't listening. That's why we have so many problems today, because people don't listen.'

The laughter on the phone line made Vicki pull the phone away from her ear.

'If you don't believe in god that's fine with me, but some people do. Some people are so closed minded they wouldn't know God if he came up and shook their hand. Are you that kind of person?' she yelled into the phone.

The hooting and the hollering stopped abruptly.

'You can make fun of it all you want, but there's something special about JJ. Something special about what he's doing. It's wonderful. Are you going to ridicule him without seeing him?' She said, running out of steam.

The phone was unusually quiet.

'Um yeah...' said the caller. 'Well...it's been quite an experience talking to you Ms Manders; we hope to get you on the show sometime.'

'I'll come' said the other voice. 'I'll come...'

The line clicked again and the mobile's light blinked, ending the call. Vicki closed the phone and put it back into her purse.

'What was that all about?' said Rogers, watching the road.

Vicki went back to looking out of the window. 'Nothing.' She said. 'Nothing.'

---

A rare respite caused Erles to sigh gratefully when he looked around the empty gallery. The place had been positively inundated since the article about Charlie's house fire. If he had any inkling what a marketing bonanza it would prove to be, he would have taken a jerry can and a pocket of matches around to her house earlier. In fact, the buzz was so strong he was wondering if any of his other artists were feeling tendencies towards arson. Not that they had any need to be jealous, the flow on benefits from a little notoriety had even shifted Donald's Art Glass and a few other pieces Erles had suitably priced in order to avoid having to dust them once more. Erles now owned an expensive looking Macintosh computer to manage his burgeoning online store. In spite of this being quite the most peculiar period of his life, and some facts about his number one prize artist being rather more than he could bring himself to think about, he was, for the first time in many years, thoroughly satisfied. Perhaps with his newfound success, he could encourage a better class of cooking in town. Perhaps sponsor a Frenchman.

When the doorbell tinkled once more, Erles looked up with resignation at having to make yet another glorious sale. His eyes took in the strange figure shambling through his doorway and all thoughts of pastries fled his mind.

The thing was smiling, or at least he could see a lot of teeth.

'Gahhhllllery…..Nyyyyygaaaaardd...?' it rasped at him, a question in the hissing of snakes.

---

The holding cell opened. 'Your ID checks. Get out.' The officer spat. Steve stood up and stepped out of the cell. The Officer grabbed his wrists and lifted them up. He looked in confusion until Steve held the cuffs up.

'Sorry. I needed to scratch.'

Steve forestalled the officers' bluster. 'Listen Pal, you don't want any more beef with me than you already got.' The officer opened his mouth anyway, so Steve reached down and pulled his pistol free from his Holster before the man could blink. The Officer stood dead still.

Steve leaned in close to him. 'If you have delayed me from the _important_ business I am here to take care of, I am going to pay you a visit later.'

'Steve!' a familiar voice said from down the corridor. Steve looked away from the office, keeping the officers pistol firmly wedged below his belt.

At the end of the corridor, a small figure was running towards him. 'Felipe?'

Felipe threw his arms around Steve and hugged him. The Officer looked at Steve as Steve handed the pistol back.

'Uncle Steve, the monster came and hurt Aunty Kathy, then they destroyed the building, then Uncle Jim came and…' Felipe blurted out in a torrent. 'Uncle Jim?' Steve raised an eyebrow. 'A little privacy please' he said, with a pointed look at the officer. The officer frowned but withdrew, buckling his pistol back in its holster and checking the clasps to ensure it stayed there.

Felipe pulled at his arms. 'Come, come. Uncle Jim is here.'

Steve let Felipe drag him by the arm to the front of the station where an old man with a cane was sitting with the Desk Sergeant.

'Ah, Steve.' The old man said, turning to face him as they entered. 'It seems the good folks of this precinct wish to say something to you.'

The Desk Sergeant took a sip from his cup of coffee. The two troopers stepped forward and mumbled an apology. Steve immediately felt an ass. He shook their hands. 'I'm sorry guys. I should have handled that better, we're just, a little stressed right now.' The troopers looked at one another and then back to Steve.

'That's ok. No hard feelings.' Said the first one.

The old man stood up. "Well, that's settled. Thank you for all your assistance, we'll be going now.'

-

Jim didn't say anything for the first thirty seconds of the ride in the town car. Felipe waited quietly, aware of the air of brooding storm between them.

Steve cracked first. 'Jim, I'm sorry, I...'

'Don't be sorry.' Uncle Jim snapped back. Felipe felt steeliness inside his words.

'I taught you better tradecraft than that. What were you thinking? Pulling rank on local yokels? Jesus!' Uncle Jim said sternly.

'I lost contact with..the Director. Is she all right?' Steve said, ignoring the anger.

'Oh Yes!' Felipe rushed to say. 'She is well! The bullet is gone!'

'Bullet?' Steve said.

Uncle Jim nodded. 'They took out the facility.'

Steve felt a hollowness in his stomach. 'Rainbird's gone, isn't he?'

Uncle Jim nodded again. Felipe could feel there were things they weren't saying, not in front of him. 'I can keep a secret' he said, trying to help.

Uncle Jim chuckled. 'I am sure you can, Felipe. Felipe saved Kathy, Steve. She's in casualty. But she'll recover. Rainbirds gone. The techs are gone.'

Steve punched the armrest of the car. 'I fucking _knew_ this was going to happen. We should have put a bullet in his skull.'

'Tch-tch' Uncle Jim chided. 'Where's your commitment to the program? In any case, Rainbird didn't get himself out of there. They would have been mad as hell when we moved him, but he wasn't why they came.'

Steve looked into the blind mans eyes. 'There's a new emergence, isn't there.'

Uncle Jim sighed. 'We never could put the Genie back in the bottle. All we could do was try to minimise the harm. That's the program. Do no _more_ harm. We're all guilty of transgressions' he said, looking sightlessly down his nose at Steve.

Steve grimaced. 'Yeah I know. I just needed to get a handle on why this woman was so important to Rainbird.'

Jim laughed. 'No you didn't. You were curious. Kathy was managing that part of the program herself and you didn't like being left out. We've had someone monitoring her for some years now. You didn't need to get involved.'

Steve gulped. He looked at his hands. 'You're right. I was pissed about it. But I was right to push it. Rainbird could have told us…'

Jim shook his head. 'He didn't know anything. He was security, not tech.'

Steve looked at him quizzically. 'I'm not so sure. I think he might have been running his own game back then too. Kath…The Director thought he had performed a few of his own tests, outside the scope of the original program.'

Uncle Jim became a little paler. 'Yes. Yes he did. But none of them survived. We.' He stopped.

'It's Ok, Uncle' Felipe said. 'You can confess your sins to your priest and you can be forgiven.'

Uncle Jim smiled at Felipe. 'I don't know how we ever got along without you, Felipe. Yes, you are right, I can seek absolution, but that's not what I want. I just find it hard to name the things we did. We killed them, Steve. We executed as many as we could find. After the project went bad, the follow up from the Agency was a squash operation. It was comprehensive. You remember that woman killed by the snipers at Emerald Rise? She had red hair. Flame red hair.'

'Jesus!' Steve exclaimed.

'We thought it was _her_. I'm not excusing it, but if you'd _seen_.' He coughed. 'If you _knew_ the damage she was capable of…Felipe, be a good lad and give your old uncle a drink of some water would you?'

Felipe quickly opened the minibar and undid the cap from a bottle of water. Uncle Jims hand shot out unerringly to the bottle and grasped it. He drank a long draught. 'Ah. Yes. Where was I?'

'Assassinating civilians.' Steve said dryly.

'Quite.' Said Jim, handing the bottle back to Felipe. 'We were slaughtering innocents.'

'What changed?' Steve asked suddenly.

Jim smiled. 'Into the darkness, shine a light. We got exposed. All of a sudden, we had a President bearing down on us with the same level of mercy we had extended to the subjects. He offered to have us all executed for treason.'

Steve snorted. 'Really?'

Jim smiled. 'Not in so many words, but lets just say we were told to reform or perish, and so the Institute was created in order to track and assist the survivors.'

'So why the raid?'

Jim sighed. 'In ancient Greek mythology, Pandora was faced with the same dilemma.'

'I'm familiar with the concept' Steve complained. 'What are they looking for? What's it got to do with the Anderson/McGee line? Did the girl do that to Rainbird? They want her as a weapon? Is he just after revenge?'

'Slow down Steve. One question at a time. She wasn't the one who did that to Rainbird. That was her father and he was liquidated. It's the genetic inheritance they're after, not the firepower.'

'Huh?' Steve said, not grasping it.

'Felipe pointed it out to me. His 'miracle power'', Jim said with a smile.

Felipe smiled in return.

'Felipe's miracle power skipped a generation. Just like the McGee's. Charlie has a child.'

Steve thought about it for a moment. 'So the granddaughter has the same power as the….Jesus.'

'Think about it Steve, the perfect weapon. Bloodless conquest. A new world order. My guess is that they interpreted your dash to the subject as an attempt to harvest a new emergent.'

'Why?' Steve asked, feeling the burden of events descending onto his shoulders.

'Because, the first move to approach the child would be to gather in the parent for leverage. That's how we do it Steve.'

Felipe nodded sagely. 'You will need to say many Hail Mary's' he said.

---

John Redman found Phil's shoulder helpful in getting down the stair at the side entrance. As they reached the bottom of the stands, a cop in a crumpled suit was standing there, staring at them in amazement. Cassie, on John's other side clenched his hand, making him wince.

Charlie smiled. 'Hi Luka. Come to arrest me?'

Luka just stood there.

'Hey Luka.' Phil said.

'Detective.' John Redman added, nodding.

Luka looked up at the skies, beseeching some help from the almighty, before turning his attentions back to them. 'You make a strange couple.' He said sardonically.

Phil finished helping John Redman down the last two stairs. 'We're going to the Hotel, want to ride with us?' he said.

Luka looked at him in surprise. 'Why not? Heck, should I follow you?'

Phil paused, uncertain whether he was being sarcastic.

'I need to speak with Charlie.' He said.

'You can talk in front of them. They all _know_.' She said, taking Phil's spare arm and nestling against him.

'Know what?' whispered Cassie into John Redman's ear. John blinked her into silence.

Luka looked nonplussed. 'You?' he said to Phil.

Phil nodded. 'Uh huh. Worked it out myself.'

'You?' Luka said to John Redman.

'Yup.' He replied. 'She told me. Plus some other things I found out along the way'

Cassie raised her hand. 'I have no idea what any of you are talking about.'

Luka shook his head. 'So I am not the only crazy person in town. _Now _I find out. We could have had meetings!'

'Come on Luka, this has been a rough time for all of us. Come back to the hotel and let's talk this through like adults. I'll order some food in and you can ask anything you want to know.' Phil suggested.

'Fine, but I wasn't coming to ask question. I was coming to talk to Charlie.'

'Just spell it out.' Charlie said irritably.

'Sarah Wainright was shot and killed shortly after your delivery driver was killed.'

Charlie gasped. 'Not Sarah!' Images of a golden haired child filled her mind. She broke away from Phil, fighting back hot tears.

Charlie dropped onto the stairs.

'Charlie, are you okay?' Phil asked, touching her neck, concerned. A single tear was rolling down her face.

'I think someone survived.' Luka whispered. 'Isaiah has come back.'

Charlie shook her head, sending the tear rolling to the side. She looked up miserably at Luka. 'He's never coming back Luka. He's never coming back from what I did. What he deserved.'

John Redman motioned for Cassie to help lower him to the stairs beside Charlie.

'There's more, isn't there. Stories you have not yet told.'

Charlie nodded numbly. 'I killed him, John Redman.' she sucked in a raw, ragged breath, 'I killed him to protect…to protect…'

'You killed him out of revenge.' Luka said quietly. 'You punished him for killing Dalton.'

Cassie gasped. Phil watched sternly. Charlie looked up into Phil's eyes, pleading. 'I, I…' she faltered. Cassie put her arm around Charlie and hugged her, looking at Luka. 'I think she's had enough.'

'Vengeance is poisonous.' John Redman said in a floating voice. 'It is the seed that never dies. The embers of anger past.'

Charlie broke down and sobbed into Cassies' shoulder. Phil glowered at Luka like he was about to tear his head off. 'For Christ's sake Luka.' He growled. Charlie lifted her head. 'No Phil, he's entitled. Really.' She said, wiping the tears away.

John Redman looked at the two of them the Cop and the woman. A bond cut from the cord of tragedy bound them together somehow. He switched his attentions. 'If she cannot tell it, then you tell it Detective. Today is not your day to ask questions, it is your time to tell your song. Sit with us.' John Redman patted the stone stairs beside him.

Luka looked at them as if they had all gone completely insane. 'Why not? Since it's the day for it.'


	34. Chapter 33 interlude

The police had pushed inwards as far as the first hill, safely below rifle arc from the belltower on the edge of the compound and established a command point. Luka pointed the nose of the cruiser towards the other police cars and the big black van with SWAT stencilled onto the side.

Charlie felt as if she was going to explode, like hundreds of grasshoppers were chittering inside her. She had not felt this out of control since…

_T__hen, _she had been filled by a terror tinged with wonder. She had been scared, oh yes, but the novelty of the Big Bad had enthralled her. The Feeling of power.

Now, she only felt sick.

Charlie banged against the window, her gorge rising. Luka quickly pulled the car over and Charlie fell out through the door, retching into the grass.

There was more to this than nerves, she realised.

At that moment, on her knees in the raggedy grass that bordered the path, with the bitter metallic taste in her mouth, she _chose_.

Luka shuffled across the seat with a concerned look. 'Jeez Charlie, I don't know if this is such a good idea, maybe we should nix this and…'

'No' she cried. 'Ben needs me. Dalton needs me. We have to do this!' She was overcome once more by a powerful convulsion and sank face forward into the grass.

Luka stopped the engine and got out of the car. From up ahead, several more police were watching the scene unfold. Luka waved to them and they stopped walking towards them. He walked around the car and hunkered down on his haunches beside Charlie, Unsure of what to say. She made feeble gagging sounds.

'Charlie…if he's gone in there…you can't…'

Charlie turned her face towards him, trying to breather, feeling her face swollen and hot.

'I can't _what, _Luka? I can't wh…'

She threw up once more.

Luka muttered profanities he would have been surprised to learn descended from a stream of invective he had once heard from his defensive line coach in high school. Luka was cursing on autopilot. He rose to his feet and walked back around the car, leant in and pulled out the radio. 'This is car 10, we're going to be a minute guys, she's pretty shook up.' Luka looked back to where Charlie knelt. 'She...oh no fucking way.' He said dropping the microphone and bolting back to where Charlie had been.

Charlie was up from her knees and running as fast as she could into the fields, still spitting the taste of the bile from her mouth.

'Charlie!' Luka yelled. 'Wait!'

She was off at a run, the crops seeming to break waves in front of her and then reform to impede Lukas progress. He put his head down and charged on, furious at himself, furious at her, furious at Dalton. Despite the pumping of his legs, somehow she made ground on him and as they crested the ridge he realised he would never intercept her.

He felt for his pocket radio and realised it was still in the car. He gave a quick glance back over his shoulder. Several other police were running towards them, distantly. They wouldn't make it in time either. There was little else he could do but give chase.

-

'There are more of them, Pa' Daniel said, running back into the house. Isaiah looked up at him from the table where he sat brooding, his head in his hands. 'It's always the way my son. The enemies of god are legion. See, your people have come to rescue you…' he said, turning to Ben.

Ben glared at him. 'They're not my _people_ you crazy coot. They're the police. What did you think was going to happen?'

Isaiah nodded and one of the Faithful struck Ben across the face. Ben rocked backwards, struggling to free his arms from the chair.

'You're a goddamn coward Isaiah' he roared and was rewarded with a blow that sent the chair crashing backwards onto the floor.

Isaiah sighed. 'I knew you would bring this pestilence into my house. I knew that your daughter would be the source of the infection. You have only proven me right.'

Ben glared at him from sideways on the floor. 'I didn't bring it into your house. Daniel brought it here. You and your damn fool gun running brought it here.'

The Faithful drew closer but Isaiah just looked at him with a pitying smile. 'Ben, Ben Ben. You've had many years to repent your ways. Now that the end is near, will you bear His judgement? Can you stand it?'

Ben's eyes grew wide as he saw any hope of talking his way out of this fleeing into the sunken depths of Isaiah's pupils, running free and naked down the fractured mirror halls of his mind. Isaiah was out of his gourd.

A call sounded from outside. Isaiah looked up.

-

'I'm unarmed you moron!' Dalton snarled. The man kept the shotgun level and prodded him in the back with it.

'I found this one sneaking up through the woods.' The man said. The Faithful who were gathered on the porch were grimly set, except for one.

'Well, if it isn't the Prodigal son hisself, huh? Come on back to beg for the life of his sweeties' father?' James said, relishing Dalton's discomfort. Dalton lunged forward and grabbed James by the shoulders, pulling him towards his knee. James collided with it with a thick crack and the Faithful surged around them. Dalton felt the butt of a gun in his back and thanked the lucky stars that swirled around his head that it hadn't been both barrels in the back.

As James fell back to the porch, his nose fountaining blood, men clustered around them. Dalton pushed them back, yelling. 'What are you going to do, James, the whole world is out there. More of them are coming every minute. Are you gonna fight the whole police force? The National Guard?' Dalton whirled around, looking into the faces of men, some of whom he had known since birth.

'You Frank? You Elroy? You've got a wife and four children. You want them in the middle of a battlefield, cos that's what it's gonna be, I can tell you now. They're out there with SWAT now.'

James spat blood at him. 'We follow the Prophet. God is on _our _side.'

Dalton looked at James almost tenderly. 'James, you're all going to die. Don't you get it? It's what _he_ wants.'

Nervous looks passed around the men.

'If it's what _He _wants then I'm ready to die!' said Elroy.

Dalton shook his head. 'Not God Elroy, not god. It's…It's _Dad…' _Dalton swallowed. 'He's not well.'

The crowd around him began to mutter. Dalton pointed to one of the men at the rear of the pack. 'It's true. Mark, you know it. You've been taking him into town. I've seen the empty medication bottles.'

Heads turned towards the man Dalton pointed at.

'You're the one who's crazy' the man spat back. 'There's nothing wrong with the prophet, he's...'

'He's just fine thankyou.' Isaiah said, parting the crowd before him. He stepped forward, James glaring at him as he passed unnoticed. 'I always knew you would come back to us'. Isaiah closed his arms around his son and hugged him tight. He whispered in his ear. 'It is our time.'

Isaiah stepped back and held out his hand. Dalton looked around at the sea of faces, captured in worship of their prophet. Dalton took his hand and followed him up the stairs.

'Gather all the Faithful unto me' Isaiah commanded his men.

-

Charlie's strength began to fail her halfway up the next rise. Luka's tackle caught her in the side and took her to the ground, robbing the wind from her lungs. Luka was above her, angry, frightened and angry. She fought for the breath, clawed for it, felt it burning in her lungs. Through a red haze she could see his face above her, he was holding her down. Luka clamped on with an iron grip and she failed to make her chest reinflate. It dawned on her that she could not breathe and she began to panic. Luka was yelling at her, but she couldn't hear beyond the pounding of her heart. She couldn't breathe! Would it hurt the…

Luka was trying to kiss her. Charlie was too weak to even fight against it now. His lips closed around her and she felt the pressure of his breath in her throat. Her diaphragm spasmed and she sucked in the air once more.

'Breathe Dammit!' Luka screamed. Charlie rolled to the side and began to cough. Luka sat back on his knees. 'Jesus Christ Charlie, what the hell is wrong with you? You want to get killed?'

Charlie coughed again, hyperventilating, recharging her blood. 'You knocked the wind out of me you jerk!' she cursed at him.

Luka shook his head in amazement. 'I ought to _shoot_ you! At least it'd be quicker than what you're trying to do.' Luka stood up over her and grabbed at her arm. Charlie her a snaffling metal click and Luka grabbed her other hand.

'Hey!' she said, feeling the cuffs bite around her wrist.

Luka held the other end of the cuff up and snapped it around his own wrist. 'Now we're going to walk out of here just like I said.' He hauled Charlie to her feet. She came face to face with him and held up her arm, looking at the cuffs.

'Luka, you need to let me go.'

Luka tugged on the cuff and turned to go, stepping off down the hill. He was brought up short as Charlie threw her weight in the opposite direction. Luka turned around, his face wild with anger. He hauled at the cuffs, pulling her towards him. Charlie's eyes were lit up like the stars. There was a puff of steam and a small 'snick' sound and the cuffs parted. Charlie fell backwards and landed on her back. Luka staggered a few feet backwards then held up his wrist, staring at the cuffs.

The chain had melted clean away.

'How did…' he said. Charlie stood up smoothly and easily, as if she hadn't just run up a hill and almost collapsed her lung. She smiled. 'You can't help me anymore Luka. You have to go now.'

Luka stared at her. Something was coming from Charlie, like a hidden light shining from within. He could feel himself being buffeted by waves of air. Around them, the plants began to fan out, like the landing zone from an invisible helicopter.

Luka smelled burnt ozone. Charlie was waiting for him. He stepped forward and put out a hand to grab her again. As he neared her, his hand struck an invisible barrier and he pulled it back like he had touched the hotplate of a stove. He stuck his fingers into his mouth, feeling the burning.

'I have to get closer Luka. I can't do it from this far away.' Charlie explained to him and then turned around. She looked back over her shoulder. 'Don't try to stop me. I. I.' she paused and looked at him in a way that somehow saw through him. She was apologising for something else, something personal that had communicated itself to her through the press of his lips. 'I'm sorry Luka.'

Luka watched as she parted her way through the plants, leaving a narrowing swath of destruction as whatever had emanated from her subsided as she resumed a stealthier walk towards the crest of the hill. As she neared the top, Luka looked back at his fingers. Blisters were forming. 'Aww crap.', he muttered and followed her.

-

'They're what?' said the SWAT Commander in disbelief.

'They've gone over the ridge sir!' said the spotter.

'What the hell is wrong with your officer?' He screamed to the trooper.

The Trooper lifted his field glasses and watched as the girl disappeared over the ridge.

'The hell if I know. He's a local. I think he's trying to stop her. Maybe she's armed?'

'Aw hell no. This is unravelling. I don't need any more hostages than we've already got.'

'Sir!' yelled one of the SWAT men, cupping a hand to his earpiece. 'The people are moving inside the buildings and shutting them up.'

The SWAT commander looked at the Troopers. 'This is going bad. We need to move.'

The Trooper shook his head. 'The hostage negotiators aren't on scene yet. The FBI's just coming in now, so're the Firearm and Tobacco guys.'

The SWAT Commander spat onto the stubble at the edge of the road.

The Trooper put a hand on his arm. 'There are kids in there.'

'Yes' replied the Commander. 'And the longer we leave them in there, the greater the likelihood that some of them are going to get hurt. We need to hit them now, whilst they're still disorganised.'

The Trooper shook his head. 'No way Jose. We're not making a move until we get some clearance on this.' The trooper walked away and started talking on his radio. Black cars were driving down the track towards them. The SWAT Commander gritted his teeth and went to stand beside his men.

'Bill?' his Sergeant asked him as he approached.

'Too many Chiefs, not enough Indians. These idiots are gonna go play fancy mind games, just like they did at Emerald Rise.' The Commander muttered. "We ought to hit them now.'

The Sergeant looked at him. 'There's an officer at risk isn't there. That young guy who chased after the girl?'

The Commander nodded. 'Another live fool who's going to wind up a dead hero.'

'It took a lot of balls to do that. I say we back him up.' The Sergeant said. The other men nodded. 'Fuckin' A' said another.

The Commander grinned sourly. 'You boys keep a lid on it. We're gonna wait until somebody works out who's in charge.' He walked back to argue with the other law enforcement groups who had started to congregate in a mass of whirling lights and vehicles.

The Sergeant looked at his men. 'When I'm on scene, I know who's in charge. Al, have you got your Remington?' The other officer who had spoken nodded to him.

'The least we can do is get up closer and give that kid some cover. Maybe we can haul his ass back here.'

-

The Faithful gathered in their long hall, made from stout wood, reminiscent of an overturned Ark. Men, women and Children mingled and chattered. There was an air of excitement in the room. The Children felt the buzz, like Christmas had come again. The adults all seemed a little strained, but something special was about to happen. They could feel it.

-

Luka had trouble keeping pace with Charlie now. Her path had disappeared into the foliage and he could only catch glimpses of her up ahead, seeming to glide smoothly up the rough sides of the hill. He lost sight of her as she reached the top and he found himself crouching at the edge of the brushwood, watching as men shut up the storm windows and shutters of the Hall.

He waited a few minutes, sweating and worrying. He had no idea where Charlie had gone to. A sense of self preservation was screaming at him from the back of his mind, 'get out of there.'

He heard a rustling sound behind him and he whirled about, fumbling for his pistol. A face rose slowly from the grass. Black masked. It put a finger to its lips. Luka breathed a sigh of relief as he recognised the small white patch on the chest of the man. The SWAT guy motioned for him to follow him back downwards. Luka shook his head, pointing to the buildings. The SWAT mans eyes went wide. He gestured forcefully back towards the bottom of the hill. Luka shook his head again. The SWAT officer grabbed him by the lapel and started to drag him backwards when the sound of footsteps made them both freeze in spot.

From around the barn a group of the Faithful were shepherding their Prophet, flanked by his two sons. Luka saw Dalton helping to steady his father. Dalton looked pale and haggard. Isaiah seemed to be nodding and talking to himself.

The SWAT officer motioned behind him and another man crept forward, a long barrelled rifle in his hand. He knelt and took up a position as the group swung around the porch.

Luka watched the sights drift across the group and realised they were aiming at Dalton. Before he could think, Luka stepped out from the bushes and raised his arms.

"Dalton!' he called out.

The Faithful stopped in their tracks, swinging their guns around. Daniel protectively stepped in front of Isaiah and fired a blast from his rifle. The shot whizzed harmlessly into the air and Luka flinched. The others of the group fired as well and Luka stood wordlessly as the bullets whizzed by. A pellet from a shotgun found its mark and Luka clutched his thigh.

The bushes responded with the sharp retort of the SWAT snipers Remington and one of the Faithful reeled back with a bullet between his eyes.

'NO!' Dalton was yelling, trying to step in between the shooters, but they scattered and sought cover, trading shots with the angry bushes.

Daniel gathered Isaiah into a run and made for the front of the building. Luka's right leg wisely gave out as he took a step forward and he fell to the ground, allowing the rounds being traded between the faithful and the hidden SWAT members to pass safely over his head. Dalton ran to him and grabbed him, looking for cover. Dalton hauled Luka across his shoulder and ran for the porch, dodging rounds from both sides. Dalton dumped Luka roughly against the side of the building and dropped down beside him. 'Luka! What the hell?'

'It's Charlie, Dal, she came in, I tried to stop her, I tried. She said she had to get closer.'

Dalton glowered and raged. 'God DAMN IT!' he screamed. He knelt down and ripped away the sleeve of his shirt, wrapping it around Luka's thigh. 'Keep pressure on it. Try and get to the woods again, get away from the buildings. Get away man, please.'

Luka was in shock. 'Dalton, they're too many of them, too many. You have to talk them down. You...' Luka began to pass out and Dalton noted the red blood seeping through his uniform and into the shirt. Dalton picked up his friend once more and carried him into the building.

-

The SWAT officer tapped the sniper on the shoulder and gestured. The Sniper looked back and nodded, turning for one last shot. There was the sound of clearing bushes and a man in brown overalls came crashing through from their flank, firing off two blasts of buckshot. The Sergeant received the bulk of the blast in the side and collapsed into a heap. The sniper chambered another round and shot the man in the face. He dropped his rifle and pulled his service automatic. The Faithful were closing with him.

-

'What's that noise mummy?' asked Sara.

'Shh sweetie. Its just firecrackers. Tonight's a very special night' soothed her mother. Sara waved to Bradley. He was sitting in his mothers lap on the floor of the hall, just like she was. Sara didn't normally like Bradley, but on special occasions, such as these, she knew that you had to be _very _good, or you would make papa very angry and that meant no desert. It must be a special day because Charlie was there. Sara knew that Charlie was Dalton's sweetheart because she had heard her mom and Charlie's mom talking in the Kitchen. Charlie was awfully pretty. She had the most beautiful red coloured hair, not like Sara's, which was corn silk blond and not at all to her personal tastes. She would much rather have been big and strong like Charlie, then she could marry a prince. Bradley wasn't a prince and sometimes he played tricks on her, so she would have to find another, when she was grown up. When she saw Charlie at the window, she called out to her. 'Hey Charlie!' Charlie saw her and smiled back, but it was a strange smile, a little like the smiles Papa would make when he was angry at the Government.

Sara pulled free from her distracted mother and ran outside.

'Are you here to get married to Dalton today?' Sara squeaked in delight. Charlie knelt down and let Sara throw her arms around her. Charlie felt strange and there was a funny smell all around. Sara felt it like you felt the air before a thunderstorm.

'No Sara. I'm here to find Ben. Do you know where he is?'

Sara shook her head. 'Is he here too?'

Charlie nodded. 'Yes, he came here to visit your father.'

Sara clapped her hands. 'There are fireworks, come see!' She took Charlie by the hand and pulled her towards the hall. Charlie floated lightly after her, her eyes ablaze.


	35. Chapter 34 the end of time

The End of Time

NOW

A man walked through the street, a placard around his neck; A hastily converted sandwich board that had once read 'blue plate special' and now read 'Behold, he is come.'

'Roll up, Roll up!' he called, ringing his bell.

Cars drove past, their occupants gawking at him.

'Roll up, Roll up!' he cried.

An open backed truck slowed to a stop beside him. The rear was crammed with people. The Driver leaned out from the doorway. 'Hey brother, where is he?'

The man stopped ringing his bell. He smiled at the driver. The Driver smiled in reply. The man with the sandwich board pointed. 'Follow those buses Brother.'

They exchanged a brief nod and the truck rumbled to life once more and lurched forward. The people in the back of the truck waved to him. The man with the sandwich board waved them goodbye and then struck up the ringing of his bell. 'Roll up!' he called. He would be a beacon, a lighthouse on their way, and when the last had gone, he would follow.

For behold, _he_ is come.

-

THEN

The little girl with the plaits was paying far too much attention to him. She had crept up through the field from his left and surprised him.

'What are you doing Mister?' she asked casually.

'I'm watching the lady in that house.' The man replied, putting his field glasses down.

She considered this for a moment, twisting her pigtails. 'Don't you think she's pretty?' she asked.

The man smiled. 'Sure she's pretty, she's beautiful!'

'Are you a nice man?'

The man nodded. 'I think so.'

The little girl thought about it a little more. He was acceptable.

-

THEN

Sarah wept. Her face was swollen, her nose crusted with blood. She winced as her man turned her over once more. He was standing above her, still seething in rage.

He looked down to her belly, snarling. She was _his_. His property and she had defiled herself with another. He spat at her. Even after the beating, she tried to crawl back to him. Just another in a long line of beloved abusers. 'You're nothing but dirt.' He spat one more time and walked away from her. She heard door slam and the pickup's engine growl. Her corn silk hair was matted with blood from the head wound and her side ached from a kick. She continued to crawl until she could use the chair to give herself enough purchase to reach the table. There was still some speed scattered across it. She began using her fingers to transfer it to her broken lip. Soon the pain subsided.

It was summer again and she was young and her prince was coming to rescue her.

-

THEN

The tribe had lined up around the block. Free medical attention was more than anyone could take the chance to pass up. He was their strongest Brave now. Even the Chiefs received him, honoured him. The hatchet was truly buried now, under a weight of cash and government aid services. Sparkling Eyes was looking at him with a mixture of awe and lust from the converted bench in the community centre. He smiled as the needle jabbed into her arm and she remained motionless. She was worthy of being his wife.

-

THEN

The young woman screamed.

'Push.', urged the Head Nurse.

So she did and with a wet rush, it was over. She had never lost control, not once. She felt the tugging of the nurses at her thighs as they swabbed her.

'It's a girl!' said the Nurse.

She cried.

The Nurse smiled and brought the baby over, laying her on her mothers' chest.

'What will you call her?'

'Vicki. Vicki Cynthia.' The young woman said. 'Just like her mama and her grandmamma.'

The Nurse looked basked in the joyous part of her job. 'Is the father waiting in the hall?' she asked innocently.

-

THEN

The visitors centre phones were made of a plastic so old they smelled of congealed petroleum, some coarser, unrefined grade of black that held the heat in, even when it was cold outside.

Isaiah wouldn't take the phone. But he knew. He tried to turn around, to make the guard go back inside with him. He was old now, so much older. Stooped, bent.

She didn't say anything. She didn't need to.

-

THEN

Charlie leant against the fence, palms pressed into the chain links, stopping her from falling through them. They were just on the scratchy side of rusty. They were not meant to be held, they were meant to discourage.

The little orange bristles of rust ground off in her palm, leaving ochre stains. The sun was still high in the sky, giving everything the pale washed out look of too much light; an unhelpful sun that made you squint; that forced the shadows from you, fixing you to the spot between them. Even now, he was shuffling away in between the two prison guards, just a small white speck in between black prison stripes. The sun was so hot. It was so hot.

-

THEN

Isaiah caught fire in a graceful rise of orange. It sprouted in blue and orange feathers, wreathing and intertwining until his skin fissured to allow the lava to cascade from beneath.

-

THEN

She sagged against the chain links, falling against then, sliding down the sharpened little wire circles, patterning her dress with orange and red.

-

THEN

He ran free with the wolves. He couldn't outpace them, but he could run free for miles, long after they had given up the chase. He could run all night if he had to. Sometimes, coyote would wait for him and give him a surprise. Sometimes, he would sing until the stars grew bored and retreated from the sky, gently put to rest by his songs. It was good to be under the open sky. Good to hear the Great Spirit sing its reply.

-

THEN

He was watching her in the bleachers. She sat all the way at the back, further up than even the families sat. Every now and again he looked up from his position on the field to make sure she was still there. The ball hit him in the face and all the boys laughed at him.

-

NOW

A stream of cars flooded the highways. No one honked. No one cared that it was Tuesday, or that it was midday, or that tonight was a particularly good night for first run TV, or that their credit card bill was overdue, or that their period was late, or their boss a bit mean, or that the cute chick in third grade wouldn't give them the time of day. No one cared. When no one cared, Time did a strange thing.

It ceased to be relevant to a great swell of people who found themselves driving down a rural highway in the sunshine, waving to others as they merged, all heading towards the source of something. No one thought about the past or future. They drove with the certain knowledge that there was only, and had only ever been, the present.

It was the end of time.


	36. Chapter 35

Death, as could be expected, had an excellent eye for Art. It smeared two less respectable works with its bandaged hands but stepped away to admire the water colours Erles so prized.

Erles Lundquist Nygaard was nothing, if not a tough negotiator. If Death had come to choose a painting, so be it. All that remained was the price.

'I'm not letting that one go for under three grand.' Erles said, generously.

The bandaged thing made a whistling sound. 'Worrrrtthhhh ittttt' it said.

Erles had to agree. He stepped out from behind the counter and walked over to stand beside the thing, admiring the picture. 'Larry is quite a lush but what wonderful feeling he has. If I could have lifted his profile, he would have been called a modern master.' Erles sighed and looked around his gallery. 'I have been so blessed here. So many of them, such exquisite beauty.'

Death was nodding. 'Shhhhculpture?' It asked.

'Ah,' said Erles, nodding. 'You heard about my _other_ genius. I'm afraid the last large piece of hers I had is long gone. I suppose you saw the Art Journal article?'

The thing nodded. Erles winked at It. 'I _thought_ you might. It just so happens that I keep a few of her smaller items in my personal collection. Would you care to see them?'

The thing smiled through ragged flesh and Erles couldn't help but smile in return. Erles turned around and led the way to the store room. He unlocked the door, opening up a well of darkness that strobed into packing crates and plinths where new art was unpacked and displayed. Erles switched on another bank of lights and walked over to the three plinths he had setup in homage to Charlie. He picked up a single silver loop. 'She made this for _me. _Just for me.' He placed it gently back down on the plinth and sighed once more. 'Now I suppose it is my time.'

The thing walked towards the plinths and reached for one of the organic seeming pieces of metal. It almost slid through the flesh of its ruined hands.

'Heavier than you expected, isn't it? I always thought she weighted the hollow moulds, but all of her work is from single pieces. It's quite uncanny.' Erles mused.

The flesh was dropping from the things fingers and it gently lowered the piece. 'Byuttttfllll' it whispered, turning the item over and over in his hands and traversing it with an eye fresh and alone in its socket, unclad by the protective tissue. Erles regarded the leaking fluids and started to consider that perhaps Death was overdoing the gore. At least he was not holding a scythe. That would have been simply too passé.

A tinkling of the front door bell drew Erles attention. 'Oh, I hope you'll excuse me for a moment. I might as well make one last sale.' He said sadly and left Death to drip over the Plinths.

A tallish man in a vulgar attempt at a suit was leaning up against his nice clean white walls. He didn't seem to notice the puddles from Death's footprints. 'Probably only _I_ can see them' Erles thought to himself. Vicky was dashing towards him, all white faced.

'Vicki my dear, what ever is the matter?' he said, quickening his pace. They clasped hands in a scene reminiscent of a renaissance painting. Erles thought that he made a silly Romeo.

'Erles! The farm burned down, they're not there, they...'

Erles smiled and in an uncommon gesture, pulled her close enough to hug.

'I know, I know.' He soothed, leading her over to the couch. 'Your mother is fine, Phil is fine, in fact, they're both in rude health. The sole victim was your grandma's porch.' He said, drawing her down to sit with him. 'Oh. And the kitchen. And I almost forgot, some poor fellow who was passing-by got burned.'

Vicki twitched like a rabbit slowly starting to calm. 'Mom and Dad are all right?'

Erles beamed at her. She was quite an attractive young thing, but darker than Charlie. Not as prone to freckles. If not for that silliness with God, Erles could see her gracing a catwalk. He was very pleased to allay her fears about Charlie, and as for himself, well, that didn't matter in the least. He had finally achieved something.

'Yes dear, I can personally vouch for their wholeness. They were staying at my place for a few days, but I think Phil has arranged accommodation whilst they repair the house. It's all going to be just fine. Your mother's about to receive a tremendous lift in her prices!' he said, smiling. Vicki looked into his face, peering as far inside him as she could to check for truth, but it was Erles. His honesty was displayed in the number of times people found him rude. Vicki beamed back at him. 'Praise the lord.' She said.

Erles smiled. 'Yes. Quite. Er, if you don't mind me asking, who's your friend?'

Vicki turned to look at Rogers, standing, waiting. 'Oh.' She said. 'He gave me a lift from the house. We're transmitting from a local community hall at the moment, because we've had some problems with…' Vicki trailed away, looking at the strange ragged marks on the floor.

'Erles.' She said, pointing. 'What are those?'

Erles turned his head to follow her. 'Oh. You can see it? Hmm. Well, it appears Death has come for me dear. My time is up, you see.'

Vicki blinked, looking squarely at him. 'Erles?' she said gently. 'Are you all right?'

Erles nodded. 'Absolutely. Other than my unfulfilled gastronomic desires, my one hope had always been to uncover a Great Talent, and my dear, in your mother I found one. It makes me profoundly happy, so you see, I half expected this.'

Vicki shook her head. 'Erles, what are you talking about?'

'Death my dear.' Erles replied happily. 'He's waiting for me.'

Vicki got up from the couch and started to follow the trail.

'I'd rather you didn't. It's private.' Erles cautioned. Vicki looked up through the open door and into the rear room. Someone was moving around in there. 'I need to find Mom, I just…'

Erles got up from the couch and took her hands again, standing between her and the doorway. 'It's OK Vicki, really it is. Everything is going to be fine. Charlie's fine, truly. I will get her to call you.' Erles smiled at her. Vicki relaxed as soon as he took her hands again.

'I didn't know about the fire, we were away, she must think I don't care, I…'

Erles kissed her on the cheek. 'Don't be silly. Now be a dear and run along whilst I serve my VIP customer.'

Vicki gave him a sad smile and turned around. Rogers looked up at her as she passed.

'Can you give me a lift back to the community hall?' she asked quietly. 'I really should be getting back there.'

'Sure, no problems. Did you find your mom?' Rogers said, following her out.

'No.' Vicki replied. 'But Erles says she's ok, so I guess I can wait until she contacts me. It's not always…easy…with her.'

'Right!' said Rogers happily. 'So let's get to this community hall!'

-

Erles watch them depart, smiling. When he turned around, he saw Death had come to stand in the doorway.

'Scccharrrrliee' It wheezed.

Erles shook his head. 'I'm surprised at you. That's her daughter.' Erles scratched his head. 'I'm starting to have my doubts about this whole affair.' He thought to himself. To Death he said 'Would you excuse me a moment?'

Death nodded its acquiescence and Erles withdrew around the corner. He flipped out his phone and dialled a number.

'Hello, Sergeant? Yes. This is he. I have a rather unusual problem and I was wondering if you could drop by. Oh anytime is fine, but the next 10 seconds or so would be ideal.' Erles hung up the phone and walked back out to Death. 'I don't suppose I could offer you a glass of something whilst you make your selection?'

---

The truck swerved violently to the right and tore up the dirt at the side of the road. Phil pulled to a halt and jumped out of the car. He inspected the damage to the front of the truck. He was shaking, white.

Charlie was pulling the seatbelt out of her abdomen and wincing as she felt the bruise.

The police cruiser pulled up sharply behind them. Luka jumped out, shutting his phone. John Redman threw Cassie's supporting hand away and ran, despite the pain.

A brown carcass was lying at the side of the road, where the impact had thrown it.

'Wild dog' Phil muttered as John Redman ran up to him. 'I tried to miss it, but I clipped it on the right.'

John ran over to the creature. Its side was stove in, the ribs broken. It was whimpering.

'Don't touch it! It may still bite!' Cassie yelled to him, running down to stand over him as John dropped to his haunches, pains forgotten. The dog winked at him. John smiled.

'Didn't expect to see me, didja?' coyote said, its mouth frothing with bubbles of saliva and blood.

-

Luka ran up to where Phil stood, examining the front of the truck. 'Anybody hurt?'

Phil shook his head. 'Just the dog.' He grimaced. 'Poor goddam thing.'

Charlie was getting pout of the truck, rubbing her bruised parts.

'Charlie.' Luka called to her. 'Your friend Erles was on the phone.'

'Erles?'

'I get the feeling it was his idea of a 911 call.'

Charlie's face shifted subtly. Some darker brooding presence settled over her and Luka felt the earth heave with him. Her eyes grew starry. 'We can't drive this thing.' Phil said, interrupting.

Charlie swung her gaze towards him, then seemed to settle back into herself, the darkness receding. Luka found he was sweating and that his hand had moved of its own accord to hover over the butt of the gun. Phil was looking at him. He motioned with his eyes and Luka quickly pulled his hand away.

'We go in the cruiser.'

-

Coyote coughed more blood. 'You're a good kid Redman. A real peach. We coulda used a few more of you back in the day. This whole country would still run wild with your like. I miss the buffalo too ya know.'

John put a palm down on the matted fur. 'Don't get maudlin on me, old man. I can get you to a hospital; we can get you fixed up.' He said somewhat lamely.

'Don't touch it, it might have rabies!' Cassie warned.

Coyote gurgled again. 'Sharp one that. Owl said she was a hottie'

John snickered. 'I knew you guys talked. Can I help?'

Coyote coughed once more, the light in its eyes leaching out. 'No John Redman. For this body, it is time to die. I just thought I'd take my share of its suffering. We must help them to pass into the next world. You must learn this medicine. Draw closer, for I would sing to you.'

Cassie watched as John Redman lowered his head until it touched the dogs' snout. She heard a whining sound that seemed to sweep up and down, as if two tunes were merged into it, one she could only faintly hear.

'Cassie, we gotta go. Emergency. You stay with Phil and John and we'll meet you at the...' Luka yelled from the door of the cruiser. Charlie was already strapping herself gingerly into the front seat.

'No.' John Redman said, standing up. 'I am coming with you. Cassie will be ok with Phil. You'll look after her, right?'

Phil looked at them and nodded. 'We'll follow as soon as I can bend this hub out.'

John clasped Cassie by the shoulders. 'I'd be grateful if you'd take that body to the vet, let them dispose of it properly.' Cassie nodded uncertainly. 'Um. Sure.'

He let her go, then rethought it, grabbed her and kissed her.

The cruiser's lights started to flash and Luka barked at him to hurry.

Cassie watched them speed away and then looked over at the dead dog.

'You can move that.' She suggested to Phil.

'Why me?' he complained.

Cassie smiled. 'I just had my nails done,' she said facetiously.

Phil shook his head with a wry grin.

Cassie walked over to the back of the truck and went in search of a shovel. 'Come on, I have to make my hippie boyfriend proud.'

---

'Boy you've have to see it to believe it Chuck!' the Reporter grinned. 'It's like Woodstock all over again!'

The host laughed. 'Bit before my time, Frank. Where's the breakdown?'

The helicopter camera operator panned over the streams of traffic on the highway. 'No breakdown Chuck, just seems like everyone's got the idea to take a drive today. I'd avoid any highway south of...'

---

People found their way into the community. Someone had the foresight to start directing the cars to park in the fields. They lined up neatly, one beside the other, with no Marshall to direct them, just a general sense of cooperation.

The Reverend looked down the hill at the swell of people gathering. 'Oh my' he said. 'I had no idea so many people felt this way. How marvellous.' He clapped Ronny on the shoulder. 'That boy JJ has done more for raising Christian awareness than anything I have ever seen. It's a miracle.'

Ronny looked over the wave of people moving up the hill. 'Yeah. He said sourly. 'A miracle. Don't forget Vicki's made this all happen'

James was waiting for them as they returned to the hall.

'These people friends of yours?' he asked, without joy.

Ronny shook his head. 'I haven't got the foggiest Pal.'

James frowned. 'There's an awful lot of them. We can't let them all in here you know, we'd be overflowing.'

'All are welcome' said a quiet voice and Ronny realised it was their erstwhile hitchhiker, freshly shaved and wearing a simple, dark old fashioned black vest and trousers. 'I _knew_ there was a reason for our meeting. I _knew _it.'

The Reverend beamed. 'Bless you Daniel. But we _should _try to put a little order into our miracles. He helps those who help themselves...' he counselled.

Daniel nodded. 'Yes Reverend. You're right. James, can you send some men to start finding those people a place to setup. We can dig a latrine at the side of the field and start having them sits around the hall. Keep a thoroughfare down the centre for access and make sure we can get vehicles in and out of here if we need to. There reverend, will that do?' The reverend nodded. 'Admirably. Meanwhile, we had best be preparing to entertain these folks. Speaking of Vicki, where _is_ our producer?'

Ronny shook his head. 'I don't know Reverend.'

'She went with Aaron to visit her mother.' James answered with a nod, departing to see his assigned tasks.

'Ah.' said the Reverend. 'Yes, poor Charlie has had quite a rough time of it. I'm sure she would be glad to see her.'

Daniel stepped forward and seized the Reverends arm. 'Did you say Charlie?'

The Reverend nodded uncertainly yes. 'Yes, she's a local artist. Her farm caught fire last week...'

Daniels grip on his arm began to hurt and the Reverend made a pained face. Daniel looked down and released his grip. 'I'm sorry Reverend. I...'

"Do you know her?'

Daniel took a moment to respond. 'Yes. I knew her a long time ago.'

'Of course you did. Everyone knows everyone in these parts!' the Reverend said with a smile, rubbing his arm. Ronny watched the exchange with a feeling of unease. Something tickled him at the back of his mind, a thought he couldn't pin down.

---

The Director awoke to see a smiling face hovering above her. It was Felipe. 'How are you Aunt Kathy?' Felipe enquired. 'Are you much better now?'

The Director sat up, or at least tried to. 'Felipe. How did you…?'

Steve softly ahemmed from across the room. Kathy sat upright with Felipe's help and mustered her best baleful glare.

'_You!' _she managed to say.

'Kathy, don't be too hard on him.' said another voice. Kathy spun as quickly as she was able in her weakened state to see a silver haired man in sunglasses sitting in the other chair across from the bed. 'Jim?'

The blind man stood up and felt along the bed until he could take her hand. 'You gave us quite a scare. If not for Felipe here, I'm afraid things would have become a great deal less pleasant.'

Kathy smiled at Felipe. 'They shot me. How did you…oh.' She said, thinking it through. 'Thank you Felipe.'

Felipe gave her a hug and she cried out in pain. He quickly jumped backwards. 'Sorry, sorry.' He said over and over.

The director smiled. ''Sokay Felipe. I just don't think I'm all the way healed yet.' She turned back towards Steve, who was looking at the floor.

'Leave him be Kathy, we have other things to talk about.' The blind man looked at Felipe. 'Felipe, can you please wait outside, I have some things to discuss with your Aunt that are private.'

Felipe gratefully nodded and excused himself. Steve stood up to leave as well.

'Oh no Mr.' the director said sharply. 'You stay right here and tell me what the hell was going through your mind?'

Steve blinked but ceased his egress and pulled his chair up closer. Jim sat on the edge of her bed.

'What's the sitrep?' Kathy said, overly formally.

Steve grimaced. 'The institute's gone. They took out the whole place.'

Kathy inhaled sharply.

'Greg's dead' Steve said, looking back at the floor.

Kathy issued a stream of invective formidable in its range and scope, calling down various plagues upon the ill begotten spawn of goats.

Jim smiled. 'That's my girl. Still cursing like a drill sergeant. Now before you turn the air anymore blue, you should know I have had a most interesting call. From Jeffrey.'

Steve's ears pricked up. 'I thought he was sent to the boondocks somewhere.'

Jim turned to him and winked with his sightless eyes. 'Yes, most amusing I thought. Nonetheless, he has been returned to the play. He called me from a military airfield quite close to here. He's got our people.'

Kathy immediately started to struggle to free herself from the restraints of the IV.

Jim layed his hand on her, nodding for Steve to do so as well.

'No you don't. You sit this one out Kathy. I only came because the boys demanded it. Jeffrey just wants out of the situation. Something about civil rights. Who would have guessed he is a constitutionalist at heart? Our people are in the hands of the US air force. In any case, he was calling about a different problem.'

'What?' demanded Steve.

'He lost Rainbird.'

Steve laughed. Kathy gave him an evil eye and Steve quickly hid his mirth.

'He'll be hunting her down.'

Jim nodded. 'Yes. Yes he will.'

'You pulled me out of there before I made contact.' Steve complained bitterly. 'I'd still be on station and monitoring.' He stopped. 'Ah crap.'

Kathy looked at Jim, somehow he knew to turn back to her and exchange a glance.

'What aren't you telling me?' Steve said, looking at the two of them. 'We need to get people on station _now. _They could snatch her up.'

Kathy and Jim shared another silent moment of communication. 'No' she said finally. 'We leave her alone.'

Steve shook his head, standing back from the bed and pacing back and forth. 'What about Rainbird?'

'Things will take care of themselves Steve. Have a little faith.'

Steve looked at the two of them in amazement. 'Sure, fine. We'll just let Zombie Geronimo kill a few more people. That fits right in with the do no harm thing, doesn't it?'

'We are going on station Steve. All of us, except Kathy here. We're just going to observe.'

Steve came close to them. 'What about the Daughter?'

Jim sighed. 'There, we have a problem. I wish I could think of a way to resolve it…humanely.'

Steve blinked. 'What?'

Jim leant in to Kathy. '_It_ travelled down the line.' He whispered. 'Sooner or later, someone will claim her. The others in Jeffrey's old camp will reform and they'll home in on this like vultures. They have your data'

Kathy felt for Jims hand and held it.

'But they don't have Greg's predictions. There's still time' she urged.

'We face the lesser of two evils. There may not be a good outcome in this instance.' Jim said quietly.

Steve let it sink in. 'So I guess I'm the shooter then.' he muttered.


	37. Chapter 36

Vicki looked out of the window in amazement. Cars, RV's, buses and trucks. Anything with wheels and a motor was on the move. Where they ran out of gas, cars were pushed to the side of the road and people walked.

Rogers twirled the police cars flashers once or twice and nudged the car into the centre of the road, crossing into the empty oncoming lane. He slowed and rolled his window down. 'Hey son.' He said to a man in a Pizza Place uniform. 'Where are you going?'

The young man blinked. 'Oh. Yeah. Um.' He said, then he grinned, embarrassed. 'I don't know exactly. That way.' he said, pointing.

Rogers narrowed his gaze. 'Are you ok son?'

The young man smiled. 'Sure, I'm great. I'm going to see for myself, to make up my own mind.' He said firmly.

Rogers raised an eyebrow and pulled the car forward a little quicker. He thumbed the steering wheel microphone toggle and called it in. 'Hey Dispatch? I'm on the old south road, there's a whole bunch of people and traffic. What the hells going on?'

'No reports. Do you want to call something in?' the radio officer replied.

'Nope. Just mighty strange that's all.' Rogers switched the flashers on one more time, and pulled into the oncoming lane. 'Let's see if we can't get you there faster little lady'

---

Rufus walked back into the hall, white faced. 'Holy shit JJ, you gotta see this.'

JJ snapped out of his reverie. 'Huh?'

Rufus grabbed him by the shoulder and walked him towards the doorway. From the porch they could see the streams of people pooling at the base of the hill.

'What the f...' JJ said.

Rufus slapped him on the shoulder and danced with joy. 'I frickin _knew _it man. Your voice, my songs. We're gonna be frickin rock stars baby', he chuckled, 'This is awesome.'

JJ looked at the people. 'This isn't right Rufus. This just isn't right.'

Rufus stopped dancing. 'Right? What are you talking about? This is so right in so many ways. Jesus JJ, did you want to keep playing the indie scene for ever? It might be God rock, but we're _connecting_ with people. We may even be doing some good. What the hell's wrong with that?'

JJ shrugged.

Rufus scowled. 'I can't figure out what you see in her man. I really can't.'

'It's not about her' JJ protested.

'Yeah riiiight' Rufus said, letting it drawl. JJ looked a little steamed up. His fists had balled up. Rufus raised an eyebrow. 'You're not about to hit me, are you JJ?'

JJ looked down at his hands and flung the palms wide. 'No.' He said. 'Fuck.' He said. Rufus burst out laughing. 'JJ! My man! You're back! Where you been?'

JJ looked away, but smiled. 'I'm sorry Rufus. My head has been all bent out of shape. It's like I'm being pushed by something. Maybe it's her…' JJ watched Rufus's lip curl. 'Ok' he continued. 'It's her, but now all this too? What are we going to do?'

Rufus smiled and waved his hand magically over the crowd below. 'We're gonna play 'em some music baby. We're gonna rock their little church going socks off.'

---

Alvin scratched his head and handed the ID back to the man with the sunglasses. 'Sure mister, I'd like to.' he said uncertainly.

The man stopped moving back towards the aircraft. 'What do you mean, 'like to'?'

Alvin shrugged. 'I _really_ would like to oblige, but I think their plane trumps your one.'

Alvin pointed to the sleek gulfstream jet rolling from the tarmac.

The man with the sunglasses stormed over and lifted his sunglasses, that's how mad he was. He'd had them on so long that he had those little circles around his eyes where the sunglasses had halted the tan. Alvin thought he looked like an angry racoon.

'Buddy, if you don't start filling this plane up within the next five minutes, I am going to charge with you obstruction of justice!' the man snapped.

Alvin looked him up and down. Alvin was shorter than him by a head. He even bet the FBI feller had a gun on him. Alvin smiled.

'I'm sorry mister. National Security. That's all they told me. Maybe you can go talk to them?'

The FBI man looked twice at Alvin to make sure he wasn't joking. 'When did they get here?'

Alvin shook his head. 'Don't know, don't want to know.'

The FBI man gave up on him and stomped off instead towards the gulf stream. Men in black outfits and high tech duffel bags were descending from the stairs. The FBI man stopped, did an about face and scooted for his own plane.

Alvin watched with a smile.

---

John called Luka back from opening the street door to the gallery.

'Wait.' John said sharply, bending to touch a smudge on the floor.

Luka followed the smudges with his eyes and saw more around the door handle to the stairs. He touched it, it was still tacky.

'It's blood.' Luka said, rubbing it between his fingers.

John put his fingers to his lips.

'Ewww gross' Charlie said, shuddering. 'I thought they only did that on TV.'

John frowned. 'This isn't good.' he said, standing up.

Luka unbuckled his holster and withdrew his pistol. John looked at the gun. 'What are you going to do with that?'

Luka shook his head in amazement. 'I'm a cop, Redman. They give these to us to shoot bad guys with, remember?' Luka pointed to the trail. 'It goes in. It doesn't come out. Whoever scared your rotund friend enough to call is still in there.' Luka started to open the door. John grabbed his wrist. 'Maybe you better let me take point on this one.'

'Uh uh.' Luka said, slapping his hand away.

John drew closer. 'Detective, this isn't your ordinary perp. This is _different_.'

Luka found John's face a mite too close. 'Let go of me.' Luka warned.

John held him even more tightly. 'Not until you guarantee not to use that weapon.'

Luka struggled again. 'Unhand me Redman, I'm not kidding.'

'You cannot kill him with that.' John insisted.

Behind them, Charlie made a soft moan. John turned around to see her, a look of panic on her face. 'It's _him, _isn't it?' She whispered. '_He_ is here.'

Luka struggled to break Johns grip until they were both shunted aside by Charlie, stepping into the doorway and pushing the door aside.

'Charlie, wait.' John said, letting go of the Detective and running after her. Charlie had a far away look in her eyes. 'Charlie, wait, wait.' John pleaded. Charlie began ascending the stairs. Soft waves of air were flowing away from her, pushing him back.

Luka ran up the stairs after both of them.

'Help me' John urged. They took a hold of Charlie's shoulders and pulled her to a halt. She turned her gaze on John. 'No John Redman. It ends now. This time, forever.'

'This isn't the way Charlie.' John said quickly. 'This isn't the answer. You can't go back and fix the things he did, that they did. You can't keep punishing everyone.'

Charlie snarled. 'He will _pay_ for what _he _did. He _has_ to pay.'

Charlie seemed to flow up the stairs, leaving the two men in her wake. The doors opened before her, announcing her presence.

Luka and John Redman ran up the stairs after her and found her stopped still in the middle of the floor, looking at the couch where Erles sat. A man shaped figure in bandages stood in front of the couch. 'Scharrrliieeee' it whispered.

-

The little bell on the door tinkled again. Erles eyes didn't leave Deaths face. Death smiled.

'Scharrrliieeee.' It said.

Charlie looked positively radiant, like she had done her hair. Erles waved to her. She didn't seem to see him, fixing her eyes on Death.

'Erles, get up slowly and come towards me.' Luka said quietly levelling his pistol at Death.

Death just watched him, glass of white whine held in its claws.

Erles looked askance at the policeman. Correction: the _crumpled_ policeman. Where did he get his clothes? Erles took a sip of his wine. 'I'm not sure what that will accomplish.'

It let out a small gasp that seemed to contain a thousand sighs of pain. Luka edged backwards and bumped into another bandaged man. Quite an entourage his girl was developing.

There was a popping sound as the air around Charlie fled from her and fresh, cooler air was sucked in to replace it. Death ceased moving.

'John.' Charlie said, looking at Death.

'Schaaaarrrllieee' it wheezed, stepping forward. 'Waaaaaaittteddddd..sssssooo. lonnggg…waaaaitedd……scharrlieee.'

It staggered another step forward, pushing as if the air had been replaced with gelatine. Charlie was drinking all of the light in the room into her.

'Come to me, John Rainbird. Come to me and I will set you _free_' she spoke to him. Waves of heat shimmered around her. The thing that had once housed John Rainbird tried to walk towards the bright light. Its legs strained and heaved to make the few feet between them.

'Come to me.' Charlie cooed. 'Come to me.'

The heat was too much. It fell to its knees, screaming as the flesh struck the ground. It clawed its way forward, still screaming.

Charlie opened the flood gates of her mind and saw everything around her. She gathered it into herself and prepared to cleanse the world.

The thing on the floor lifted its ruined face to her. 'Scharrlieee.'

John Redman stepped between them. Charlie shifted to the right, reaching out with her mind. John Redman recoiled as if he had been slapped, but stood his ground.

'No Charlie. Not like this.'

She surged towards him, filling the space around him with the scent of autumn, dry crackling leaves in a fire. 'I can end it.' She said, caressing his jaw. 'I can make it stop hurting.'

John Redman took her hand and laid her palm on the creatures face.

'This is what we have wrought. These are the works by which we are called 'monster''

Charlie looked down into the ruined eyes of John Rainbird and for an instant, she saw into her past. She jumped away from the touch; looking down at her hand and seeing the skin come away from his cheek as it broke contact. She recoiled in horror.

'Schaaaarrrllieee!' it hissed desperately.

'If you send him into the next world like this, he will burn eternally. His spirit will scream in pain through the ages and the sound will never leave your ears.'

John looked into the ruined face, easing the body down onto the floor. 'Uncle, the elders have sent for you. The ancestors are calling for you. They await you, my uncle. They await you in great fields of grass under the forever sky. There is sweet water, sweet and cold. It will refresh you on the long journey.'

John Rainbird sighed, his eyes fluttering. John Redman turned to face Charlie. Tears rolled down his long cheeks.

'Charlie, I beg for him. I beg for him, in spite of the blood debt he owes. I beg you to let him pass to the next world _whole_'

Charlie's vision cleared and she suddenly saw an injured man squatting beside a dying man, a dying family member. John Rainbird was wheezing, leaking fluids, disintegrating before her eyes.

'I beg _you_ for mercy from the justice of your Father.' John Redman implored. 'When you said you owed me, I did not accept the obligation, but when I asked you for your help, freely given, you gave me your word. I hold you to that word now.'

Charlie sank down onto the floor. 'What can I do?' she said quietly. 'I can only kill him.'

'Your daughter, Charlie. Your daughter has it within her to forgive him, to let him die.'

'Vicki can't. She can't do it. I made it so she couldn't do it anymore.' Charlie said numbly.

John nodded. 'I know, but will you _try_?'

'I don't even know where she is, John.'

Erles tapped his glass. 'I'm not entirely certain I follow this whole conversation, but am I correct in assuming that …the thing…on the floor is in fact…human?'

John and Charlie looked over at Erles.

'Don't look at me like that Charlie.' Erles scolded. 'And you, whoever you are, I don't even know you, so you turn that glare away. Now, what was I saying?'

'You wanted to know if that thing was human' Luka chimed in.

'Ah yes.' Erles said. 'Thank you Detective. That thing is a man?'

'Don't ask me' said Luka, lowering his pistol.

'Yes.' Charlie answered. 'He's an old….friend.'

'Who did you think it was?' Luka asked.

'Death.' Erles replied. 'Things have been slightly unusual recently so I am afraid I rather leapt to conclusions. Charlie, you cannot kill this….man. I've almost talked him into buying a watercolour.'

Charlie laughed involuntarily.

Erles sniffed. 'You do as the…what's your name?'

'John Redman.'

Erles nodded. 'Yes. You do as John Redman says. In any case, the point I was trying to make was that Vicki visited here not long ago.'

'Where did she go?' John Redman asked quickly.

Erles emptied the wine glass into his mouth and swallowed it and held a hand up to forestall further questions. 'It should be simple to locate her. She was with your partner.'

'My Partner? I don't have a part..' Luka paused. 'She was with _Rogers_?'

'Yes, I believe she mentioned the name. Something about transmitting from a community hall.'

Luka quickly put his gun away and retrieved his mobile, dialling a number. 'Rogers? It's Wachowski, where are you?'

---

Phil nudged the truck into the parking lot and turned off the engine. He sighed. 'Poor old girl.' He gave the dashboard an affectionate pat.

Cassie smiled. 'Well, let's get run-over-rover out of the back.'

Phil chuckled. 'Black humour from such a sweet looking girl? Who'd a thunk it?'

They got out from the truck and Phil picked up the shovel.

'I don't see why we couldn't just bury it out there you know.' Phil thought aloud.

Cassie helped him to lever the dead dog out from the rear of the truck, trying not to touch it with her hand. 'The things we do for people we love.' Cassie said sadly.

Phil gave her a strange look but said nothing.

They trudged up the stairs to the back entrance of the veterinary clinic and rang the bell. The vets' assistant opened the door to find a tall farmer holding a dead dog on a shovel. 'Can we please use your incinerator?' Phil asked politely

Cassie left him standing at the door and walked back towards the truck. Two white cars had pulled into the parking lot, they parked on either side of the truck and men began to get out. They were all wearing sunglasses. Cassie shielded her eyes and smiled at them.

-

The Boss stuck his head in through the doorway. 'Where's Wachowski?' he asked.

'Don't know sir.' said one of the junior detectives. The Boss looked around. 'Where's Rogers?'

Again, he was greeted by shrugs. The Boss scowled at his men and called the Desk Sergeant. 'Despatch, where're Wachowski and Rogers?'

'Rogers is on the old Southern road. I don't know where Wachowski is, Sir.'

The Boss nodded. 'Ok...' he put the phone down and walked out into the central room.

'Listen up everybody. We're about to have some Federal visitors so I want everyone on the line. Start drawing vests and riot gear.' When nobody moved, he stamped his foot. 'NOW people, this isn't a drill!'

The Boss walked back into his office. 'Are you _sure_ this is necessary?'

The Blind man reached unerringly for the coffee cup. 'I can assure you Captain; I wouldn't be here if it wasn't'

---

Aarons hands were shaking all the way to his lips. Then the lighter flicked on and the smoke curled out and his jingle jangle nerves were smothered with a soft buzz. He leaned back and passed the pipe to the next guy. Aaron staggered to his feet, seeking the source of the sound that was making his ears hum. He looked out through the dirty window and realised it was the sound of cars, lots of cars. He also realised through a haze that it was getting late. He would be missed.

'I have to blow.' He said to no one in particular, then turned around and put his money down on the table. 'I need a couple of bags.'

---

Vicki struggled to push through the crowd until one of the men from the community spotted her and intervened.

'You're Vicki, right?' the man said. Vicki nodded, grateful to be separated from the crowd. 'Come with me.' He said.

The man led her up through the people to one of the buildings. A man was waiting for her on the porch. Vicki recognised him as the Hitchhiker who had volunteered the hall.

'Vicki.' He said. 'My name is Daniel.'

'I know that' Vicki replied, irritated.

He reached forward and hugged her. Unsure of how to respond, she remained motionless inside his arms. He whispered into her ear 'I knew your father.'

Vicki gasped.

The man was grinning at her. 'Dalton was my brother. I'm your Uncle, my child.'

He took her by the hand and led her into the building.

---

The front of the building was swarming with Police. The FBI agent grabbed one on the shoulder as he tried to run past. 'Hey.' He said. 'What's going on here?'

The officer looked down at the hand holding his arm. 'The hell if I know. The feds want us out at some farm.'

'What Feds?' the man demanded. '_We're_ the Feds, I mean, _I'm_ with the FBI. Who's in charge here?'

'I am' said a voice and the FBI man looked further up the stairs where an old man was being helped to navigate the steps by a young Filipino.

The FBI man blinked. 'What the hell are you doing here?'

'Now Now, Special Agent Westacott. Not in front of the Children.' warned the Blind Man. Westacott released the officers' arm. The officer gave him a sour stare and then ran down the stairs.

'What's the NSA doing here?' Westacott demanded.

The Blind Man held out a hand. Westacott took it, feeling the strange force in the grip. 'Don't interfere, Special Agent.'

'That was your team in the Gulfstream, wasn't it?' Westacott accused, helping them down the stairs.

The Blind Man shook his head. 'No son, it wasn't ours.' He gestured around them. 'These are our people.'

Westacott snorted. 'You're mobilising the locals against what, a black ops team? Are you fucking insane?'

Felipe stepped forward and was about to do something, but the Blind Man held him back. 'Don't be concerned, Felipe. The Agent here is just a little scared, and he has a right to be. He's helped to make this mess.'

Westacott scowled. 'This doesn't have anything to do with…'

The blind mans grip tightened. 'It has _everything_ to do with it. You left a small detail unattended to and we have a mutual blow-back issue. I suggest we cooperate.'

They reached the bottom of the steps and a black town car rolled to a halt.

'Get in' said the Blind Man. 'We can talk on the way.'

They settled into the car and it pulled smoothly away from the stairs.

'What are the locals going to do?' Westacott asked curiously.

'Establish a perimeter. Try to turn as many people back as possible.'

Westacott lost his cool. 'From _what?_'

'From the end of the world.' Felipe replied. The Blind Man smiled.


	38. Chapter 37

Daniel led her into one of the thickly built brick houses. Vicki followed meekly, drawn by her fingertips to sit beside him. He looked at her in wonder.

'I can't believe it.' he said. 'Dalton's girl. It's a miracle.'

Vicki shook her head. 'How can you be my Uncle? My father's family are all dead.'

'We're not _all_ dead,' Daniel snorted, 'You have an aunt, Sarah, and a cousin as well. You've met him; Aaron.'

Vicki blinked. 'Aaron is my _cousin_?'

'Yes my child. We are your _family_.' Daniel took her hands, clasping them. 'Now I understand why this has all come to pass. It is _his_ will, don't you see?'

Vicki found herself staring into his eyes. He looked so certain, so sure.

'But why didn't anyone ever tell me?' Vicki said to herself.

Daniels face grew grim. He looked down at the floor. 'I have been…away.'

'Away?' Vicki asked, still staring into space.

'Prison.' He replied. Vicki turned to look at him. He was still holding her hands, but she didn't ask him to let her go. He was confessing to her.

'Prison?' She asked again.

Daniel sighed. 'I….I.' he let go of her hands. 'I did terrible things when I was a young man. Things that I will answer for. Your mother, she.' He stopped again. 'She has every right to hate me. She probably thought I was dead. In a way, I was.'

'Why?' Vicki demanded. 'Why did she hate you?'

A tear trickled from Daniels eye. 'Because I killed your father.'

Daniel wept. Without thought, Vicki put her arm around him and held him as he sobbed.

---

Erles trotted downstairs to Albrights Furniture and found Pete and Pete Junior eating sandwiches and listening to the radio.

'Hey Mr Niggard' said Pete Senior.

Erles pursed his lips but decided against correction. 'Hello Petes. I need to ask a favour. Can you help me shift something out of the gallery?'

'Sure' said Pete Junior. 'You got some paintings again?'

'Not quite.' Erles said tactfully. 'I have a...' he paused. Inspiration came to him. 'I have homeless chap who's crept upstairs and he's too drunk to move. I have a policeman here and I need some help to carry him to the car.'

Pete Junior jumped up, eager to defend his Mall. 'Sure Mr Niggard, we can help.'

-

Luka's hand slipped an inch and the board shifted. John Redman and the two Petes heaved to keep it upright. The bandaged figure on the board moaned as it slid against the flesh on its back.

"Watch it!' snapped John Redman.

'Sorry' Luka said and wedged the board on his knee until he could get a better grip. 'Ok.' He said. 'Got it.'

Charlie was at the bottom of the stairs, holding the door open.

The men carefully stepped the stairs until they reach the door and then squeezed around it, trying to keep the board level.

Erles had the door of the squad car open and they lay the edge of the board on the seat, sliding it across.

'He looks hurt pretty bad.' Said Pete Senior. 'You gonna take him to the hospital?'

Luka looked over at Charlie.

'We're going to get him help right now.' Charlie answered for them. Pete Senior looked at her strangely, but nodded. 'Ok.'

'Thankyou both' Erles said, shaking Pete's hand. 'I'm going to go with them, to make sure he's ok.' Erles ran back and locked his door.

'We can't all fit' Luka said, pointing at the car.

'I'll drive with The Detective.' John Redman suggested. 'Have we got another car we..'

Charlie shook her head. 'No, we were meant to meet Phil back at the hotel.'

Pete Senior slapped his son on the arm. 'Pete Junior will drive you wherever you need to go.'

Charlie beamed at him. 'Thank you…'

'Pete.' Erles provided.

Pete Senior smiled. 'Just being neighbourly.' He said. 'Petie, you go bring the car round.'

Luka sat down heavily in the drivers' seat of the squad car. John Redman sat down more gingerly in the passenger seat. Behind them, the thing on the board groaned.

Luka looked back nervously. 'Is he gonna last the distance?'

John reached out a hand, but let it hover over the form. John Rainbirds eye was watching him. Cold, clear.

John nodded. 'He'll make it. Where did Rogers say she was?'

'He's over at a Christian community hall or something. She's gone to the hall there to do her TV show. Rogers is waiting there for us. He also says it's getting crowded.'

John raised an eyebrow. 'What's that supposed to mean?'

Luka shrugged. 'Don't ask me.' He switched the cruisers flashing lights on. 'We'll get there as quick as we can and find out.'

-

The Vet opened up the door from the rear of the surgery to the front waiting room, but her visitor was nowhere to be found. She only knew Phil as a fixture from the local markets. He was a sweet natured guy and awful busted up over the poor stray he had hit; no doubt on its way back from a raid on the scraps from the county tip. She had put it into the cremation oven and set the timer and wandered back to the desk, but the Phil was gone. The Vet looked out from her window and saw him talking to a group of men. The pretty young thing he had come in with was nowhere to be seen.

The men put their hands on either side of Phil. He shrugged the first one off and pushed another fellow down the stairs. The Vet gasped, grabbing her desk phone and dialling 911. One of the men outside pointed something at Phil and he began to dance and jerk, finally slumping to the ground.

'Hello? 911, this is Nina at the vet surgery, some men are beating up Bill…no…Phil... .' she said, struggling to remember his name.

Outside the window, the men started to haul the farmer down the stairs. She dropped the handset and ran outside, yelling. 'Hey, what are you doing?'

One of the men turned around and held up a leather wallet.

'National Security Ma'am.' He said, snapping the case shut.

'You can't do this, he's citizen!' she protested, but the men ignored her and stuffed Phil into their car. She wrote down the license plate number as it sped away and ran back inside to tell the operator.

---

A heavy hand fell on Aarons shoulder as he emerged from the house, blinking in the failing light. His pupils were contracted back into tiny little pinpricks.

'Hey buddy' said a voice. Aaron reflexively slapped the hand away. Another man blocked his path. Aaron felt in his pocket for the revolver, but his arm was quickly wrenched to the side. A man with a scarred face slammed him up against the weatherboard side of the house. 'Didn't think we were going to see you again' the man said gruffly, hauling Aaron up by his collar. 'Your Uncle hasn't come through on his end of the bargain. I wonder what he'd say if he knew you were here.'

Aaron's coat pocket barked fire. The scarred man staggered twice as the small rounds broke in through his ribs. He dropped Aaron and fell backwards. Aaron pointed his pocket at the second man and fire again. The man dived to the side with a shriek as a round entered his shoulder. Aaron's heart was thundering, his blood crashing in his ears. Aaron stood over the body. 'YAAAA!' he screamed at it. He stepped over the body to the other man, who was still lying on his back clutching his shoulder. Aaron fired again. The pistol made a clicking sound, muffled by the coat pocket. Aaron froze, but the man on the ground hadn't heard the hammer fall on an empty chamber.

'You earned yourself a death warrant, son.' The man gasped.

'You first.' Aaron replied flatly and raised the burning edge of the pocket where the snub nose of the revolver poked through. The man closed his yes and waited for the shot. After a few moments, he opened his eyes and saw that the young man had fled.

---

'There you are my child.' The Reverend said, stopping at the door. Vicki looked up at him. Daniel was still holding his head in his hands.

'Hi Reverend.' Vicki said with a sad smile.

The Reverend looked at the two of them, unsure of what to say. 'Ah.'

'He's family.' Vicki explained. The Reverend eyebrow went up in surprise. 'Oh? I see. Did you find your mother?'

Vicki shook her head. 'I saw her friend Erles, at the gallery. He said she's ok. Maybe I'll try and go again tomorrow. I thought I might be needed here.'

The Reverend's face showed obvious relief. 'As always, _Vicki._' He paused for effect, showing that he had paid attention. 'You are in the right place at the right time. My lord do we need you right now.'

Daniel wiped his eyes. 'You go with the Reverend, my girl. I'll be fine. Maybe after you're done, we can talk again. I have so many things to ask you.'

Vicki smiled and gave him another hug. She took the Reverend offered hand and walked out onto the porch. People were streaming up the slopes to the Church. They had settled in and around it, on picnic blankets. Someone had started lighting torches up the hill.

At the bottom of the hill, cars were parked in disciplined ranks in the fields.

'We've got quite a few visitors.' The Reverend noted. 'The community folks here are proving adept at managing the logistics, but I am not sure how we can get them to disperse.'

Vicki looked over the crowds in wonder.

'Why are they here?' she asked.

The Reverend clapped her on the shoulder. 'They're here to be inspired by your show, Vicki, just as I was.'

Vicki beamed at him. 'Really? They're all here for me?'

The Reverend looked shocked. 'No my child, they're here for him.' He said, pointing up at the Hall. JJ and Rufus were waving to the crowd.

'Come on, let's go help.' The Reverend said and plunged into the crowd.

---

Ronny looked askance at the three guys struggling with a tripod and batteries.

'Are you Ronny? Where can we set up?' the first one said to him.

'Set up what?' Ronny asked, shaking his head.

The man blinked. 'Um. The camera. Someone said you were the floor manager.'

Ronny nodded. 'Yes, that's me all right. Who the hell are you?'

The man smiled. 'I'm Dave. We're with Channel four. They said it was OK to set up in here with you.'

It was Ronny's turn to blink. 'Huh?'

'For the show. People want to see for themselves, you know, make their own minds up.' Dave replied. 'My Boss wanted us to get in first, on account of you using our retransmission.'

Ronny scowled. 'No one told me about this. Have you cleared it with the producer?'

"Welll…'

Ronny shook his head. 'You wait here. You can setup to my desk and take a feed from it, but I am going to have to clear this first, ok?'

Dave nodded gratefully and Ronny barged past him. Ronny grabbed one of the band members, the skinny Japanese guy. 'You see Vicki?' he asked.

The Japanese guy shook his head. 'No.'

Ronny let go of him but looked around the room. The band was setting up on the stage. The cameras were going up on either side. Ronny spotted Josiah in animated discussion with a bearded man near the doorway. Ronny made a beeline for them and shoved Josiah, hard. 'Hey!' Ronny interrupted.

Josiah looked at him in shock, staggering to one side to regain his footing.

'What are these guys doing here?' Ronny demanded.

Josiah rubbed his shoulder. 'Ronny. I'd like you to meet Peter Vandreen, from the Life Ministries and Channel Four.'

The Bearded man raised a hand to interrupt him. 'Please Josiah, call me Peter. You must be Ronny Stanislaw,' he said, extending a hand

'Do I know you?' Ronny grunted.

Peter laughed. 'I know _you_. I filled in on sound at Good Morning Philly one time. You were mixing.'

'Jeez. I _do _know you. What the hell are you doing here?' Ronny said, squinting.

Peter waved a hand around the room. 'I saw your Memphis show. I've been following the news, saw the Pirate Christian station you guys seemed to have setup and wanted to see how we could help.'

'Mr Van...Peter has offered our show a new home. He brought his OB crew in case we needed some help in the interim.'

Ronny scratched his head. 'Shouldn't we ask Vicki about this?'

Josiah demurred. 'Ahh, she's ah.'

The bearded man pointed to two figures moving through the crowd, towards the rope fence that the community had set up to keep the entrance clear. 'I think that's her, isn't it?'

Ronny nodded and ran to meet her, pushing his way through the people.

Vicki almost collapsed into his arms in relief.

'Vicki' Ronny said urgently. 'You gotta rein DeJean in; he's got half the planet here. Are you okay?'

Vicki leant on him a little and Ronny decided to make some space. 'Give us some room here' he barked at the people standing around them. The space cleared enough for him to pull Vicki into the relative safety of the hall grounds, the Reverend clinging on to her.

'Thankyou Ronald, I was getting a bit claustrophobic in there.' The Reverend panted.

Ronny was still looking at Vicki. 'Vicki. Snap out of it!' he said, clicking his fingers in front of her face. Vicki suddenly returned to the moment. 'I'm sorry Ronny.'

Ronny grinned. 'It's not your fault kid. DeJean's gone berserk, he's got Channel Four up here with a crew and…'

Vicki stepped away from Ronny and stood staring into the darkness. 'What now?' Ronny complained as she ignored him and walked away. The Reverend pointed. JJ was coming around the building with Rufus, laughing. Vicki was balanced on the edge of her toes, trying to spill words from her mouth, but they wouldn't come. JJ looked at Vicki; a brief flash of pain registered on his face, then he looked away and walked inside.

'Uh oh.' Ronny murmured under his breath.

Vicki ran after him.

---

The black van stopped in the middle of traffic and the rear doors opened. Men rushed out from the van and started dropping road cones and flares.

'Hey buster, move the hell out of the way' yelled the driver of a pinto trapped by the cordon. The men were masked and held glossy black submachine guns at chest height, over their vests.

'This road is closed' one of the masked men announced.

'The hell it is' said the driver of the Pinto and accelerated to skirt the cones. His windscreen popped and starred as small calibre bullets ripped up his passenger seat. The man threw the car to the right and ploughed into the ditch at the roadside. He jumped out of the car, screaming and waving his arms.

"What the hell are you...' he drew silent as the masked figures approached him weapons aimed. 'On the ground!' yelled their leader. 'On the ground now!'

The Pinto driver quickly complied.

The flares dropped on the road grew in number and the masked men began to seal the perimeter.

-

'What's the hold up?' John said, looking at the traffic around them.

Luka picked up his radio. 'Car 5 to despatch. Is there an accident on the southern road?'

The radio beeped and chirped and then a voice came on the line. 'Wachowski, where the Sam Hill are you!' demanded the voice. Luka winced. 'The Boss' he explained to John Redman. 'The old south road Boss' he said into the microphone, with some trepidation.

The radio was silent for a moment. 'I don't know how you do it Wachowski, but I love you for it. Get on scene as quick as you can, but don't go in until we arrive.'

Luka looked at John Redman in surprise. 'Sorry Boss? You _want_ me to...'

'Wachowski, we're cooperating with the Feds. There's a fugitive loose, an army colonel. They think he's headed for some community centre…'

'Everyone is headed here Boss. The road is crammed. Hold on a minute.'

'What is it?' John Redman said as Luka put the microphone down. Luka was peering at the orange glow in the distance. He rolled the window down and stuck his head out.

'There're flares up ahead on the road. I think our guys have set up a perimeter.'

Traffic had stoped altogether now and cars were fleeing in the opposite direction. Some were breaking out into the fields amidst the sounds of tearing metal and small staccato popping sounds

'What now?' Luka murmured to himself, switched on the flashers and drove into the oncoming lane. He plunged off the road as a fleeing car careened into the motionless traffic and veered towards them.

'Luka, watch it, he's sliding around!' John Redman warned as their passenger screamed. Luka grimaced and tried to straighten out. John Redman lunged over his the passenger seat and tried to stop the body on the rear seat from sliding. He issued a stream of curses, which Luka echoed as he fought the bucking car as it crashed over the ditch and through a wire fence. He pulled to a slow halt a few yards into the field. Behind them, the wagon with Charlie, Erles and Pete Junior roared over the dirt and slid to a stop beside them, Pete Junior grinning from ear to ear.

'What are you doing?' Charlie Yelled.

Luka swung his door open and jumped out. 'There's someone blocking the road down there' he said, pointing.

Charlie opened the door of the wagon and got out, peering at the flares. 'Cops?'

Luka looked over to them. 'No way.'

The masked men were firing bursts from their weapons, driving the oncoming traffic back, into the fields, anywhere other than the mouths of their guns. Still, some were driving on through the fields, trying to skirt the roadblock. The armed men were firing into the vehicles.

'This seems highly irregular' Erles noted, arising daintily from the passenger seat. 'I called shotgun' he explained to Lukas pointed glance.

Charlie walked back towards the road.

John Redman saw her through the rear window and disentangled himself from his seatbelt.

Luka grabbed him and held him back. 'Not this time Cochise. You let her go for this one.' Luka said, holding on tightly.

John Redman favoured him with a sour glare. 'I'm not Apache, Wachowski.'

'What do I know from Native Tribes?' Luka admitted, holding him even more tightly. 'Just trust me on this, ok?'

John Redman measured Luka's temperament; something rock solid had possessed the little man now. John relaxed in his grip as Charlie walked through the field, towards the men.

A bubble of distortion appeared around Charlie, refracting the light of the flares. The bubble expanded at the speed of sound, carrying before it the topsoil of the field, small grasses turning into cinders, spinning like a horde of fireflies. The bubble enveloped the men and the van, washing through them, shaking them. The masked men joined the fiery dance as roman candles. They and the van waltzed across the road into the next field. A strong buttery wind buffeted John and Luka as the heat flashed back across the field. When the road was clear, Charlie turned around and walked back to them, the wind around her dying away.

'Road's open.' She said and climbed back into the front seat this time. Erles didn't argue.


	39. Chapter 38

'I can't hear a goddam thing, what happened to Wachowski' The Captain yelled. A patrolman turned the radio up as a new voice burst through '…explosion, about five miles south, there's people all over the place, Jesus!' the scattered static of the radio interrupted the voice. The Captain shuffled forward on the back seat. 'Who is this?'

'I think its Car 17 sir, Williams, sir.' The patrolman replied, handing the microphone handset over the back seat.

The Captain thumbed the transmit button. 'Williams, what's going on?'

'Jesus, I mean, sorry sir' the speaker paused, recognising the Captains voice, 'It's all screwed up here. There was a van sir, on the South Road, it exploded.'

The Captain winced. 'The Feds are getting better. At least they're turning up _before_ things blow up for a change.' He muttered to himself. 'Ok Williams try and seal it off.'

The radio channel went live and the background sounds drowned out the voice.

'Sir, I can't, I can't make them stop sir!'

The Captain shook his head. 'What in hell are you talking about Williams?'

'The people sir, they're just going around it.'

'How many people, who are they?'

The radio buzzed. 'Everybody sir. It's everybody.'

---

Special Agent Westacott sat in the rear of the car opposite Uncle Jim and Felipe, glowering at Uncle Jim. Felipe smiled at him and the man looked decidedly nervous. This made Felipe happy. People were being very mean to one another today. It was time they started to behave.

A chirping sound startled Westacott and he jumped as his pocket began to vibrate. He ignored it, trying to pretend it wasn't ringing.

'Aren't you going to answer that?' Uncle Jim asked helpfully.

Westacott smiled sardonically. 'Yeah.' He said, withdrawing a PDA from his pocket and plugging in an earpiece.

'Westacott.' He answered into the phone. 'What? Who is this?' he demanded. After a moment, he pulled the earplug and uncoupled it from the pad, looking daggers at Uncle Jim. 'It's for you.'

Uncle Jim took the phone and held it up to his ear. 'This is James Bernbaum. To whom am I speaking? I see. Yes. We are. You do? Well, be sure to take very good care of him. Ah. I _see.' _Uncle Jim said without hint of irony. 'We are not in a position to meet that demand, or any other, for that matter.' Uncle Jim was talking to a Bad Man. Felipe could tell, even though his Uncle did not show it.

Uncle Jim made a 'tut tut' kind of sound, like he was talking to a naughty child. 'You do realise that could be considered treason?' he said, growing grim. The call obviously finished, because Uncle Jim handed the phone back to Westacott, who took it and made sure it was off. 'What?' demanded Westacott.

Uncle Jim shook his head sadly. 'The Elephants have begun to play. I truly hope you are on _our_ side.'

Westacott grew alarmed. 'I'm on the side of the United States Government!'

'Aren't we all?' mused Uncle Jim.

'Uncle, what has happened?' Felipe asked.

'The bad men took one of our family, they want us to swap them for another member of our family, someone you haven't met yet, a very special young lady. She's a….distant cousin on your Fathers side.'

'That is terrible, Uncle Jim. We must stop this.'

'Yes Felipe, we must.'

Felipe sat back and smiled. Right now, he knew that Uncle Steve was running through the woods near where they left him, carrying many guns. He would be there to meet the bad men and kill them. And if he didn't, Felipe would show him how.

---

Vicki caught up to JJ as he reached the doorway. Rufus looked back at her and smiled, holding up a hand to block JJ's progress. JJ turned around and his eyes confronted Vicki. 'JJ I…Can I talk to you for a minute?' Vicki asked.

JJ stopped in his tracks. 'I thought you'd never ask.'

'Just don't be too long dude; they're baying for blood out there.' Rufus called, shaking his head as they walked away. 'One minute he's fine, the next minute, POW, right in the kisser' he grumbled, shrugged, and set off in search of a guitar lead.

-

JJ and Vicki walked hand in hand to the dark shadows at the side of the hall. Night had come in full. It was the right time for lovers to meet, to speak of secrets.

'I', I've never. I don't know how to say this…' Vicki stammered.

JJ stoped and put his body in front of hers. He said nothing.

'I…' she began again.

JJ kissed her and stepped back. Vicki stared into him, seeing him clearly in the darkness.

'I love you Vicki.' He said and walked away before she could respond.

---

If Felipe had the foggiest notion of how uncomfortable running through the woods with a backpack full of ordnance was, he wouldn't have considered it so romantic. But this was what Steve loved. No more ambiguity, no more foxing around the issue. Get in, find a spot, get a clean shot, and get out. Or, as they put it in the Trade, infiltrate, locate, eradicate, exfiltrate.

His feet hurt. His back hurt. It was fricking glorious. Steve didn't let his mind dwell on the moral dimensions of this particular assignment. It was time to bring this whole project back under control. He was still thinking of explosions when the night sky lit up. He almost stumbled; Someone had started the fireworks early tonight. It was still a few miles away, but the crack of concussive air passed a few moments later. In his humble estimation, this was not a good sign. He redoubled his run.

---

Cassie looked at the man opposite her. 'You can't do this you know.' She warned him. He ignored her and stared straight ahead.

Phil had been taken to the other hotel room a little while ago and she was worried. They had bundled them in through the car park and straight into an elevator which unfortunately went straight to their floor, with the help of a fireman's key. Phil had still been groggy and it had taken two of them to drag him into the next room. Cassie was locked in the adjoining room with the dark suited man who wouldn't speak to her. She was running though the ways in which she could attract attention. Hit the guy over the head with a vase, pull the fire alarm. Cassie got up from the chair.

'Sit down.' The man ordered.

'I need to pee.' She said, planting her hands on her hips. 'You make me pee myself and you are going to need that taser again.' Cassie said firmly.

The man undid his jacket and withdrew a pistol, placing it on his lap. 'Leave the door open' he said.

Cassie frowned; crossing her arms, but withdrew towards the bathroom. The front door to the room was only inches away; she could grasp the handle, run out into the hall and scream. The man behind her coughed, so she selected the light switch instead and went into the bathroom. She looked at her self in the mirror, she looked _awful_. She ran the water into the sink and took a hand towel from the rack and washed her hands and face, patting herself down. As she looked around for a hook to put the towel back down on, she heard a crashing noise and she froze. She put the towel down and edged towards the bathroom door, keeping her back to the shower stall, she tried to peer around the door.

A huge shape loomed in front of her and she screamed.

'Cassie?' said Phil, poking his head in through the doorway.

Cassie leapt backwards, colliding with the shower stall. She righted herself and swung a slap at Phil's face. Phil pulled his head out of the way. 'Hey! What's that for!'

'You scared the life out of me!' she hollered, forcing her way out of the bathroom and pushing Phil back into the room. She put a hand to her mouth. Phil took it gently and pulled it down.

'Where _are_ they?' she whispered, looking at the empty room.

Phil shrugged. 'They had to go.'

Cassie raised her eyebrow.

'And so do we.' Phil said and grabbed her arm, yanking her toward the door.

'Hey!' Cassie complained as she was pulled out through the doorway and into the corridor. She couldn't be sure, but as she glanced back into the room, she could see the chair where her captor had been sitting, lying askew on its side.

'Where are we going?' she puffed as Phil pulled her quickly down the hall.

'We have to get to the girls.' Phil explained. 'We have to get there fast.'

---

Aaron abandoned his car at the edge of the traffic block and decided to hoof it. He was full of power tonight and besides which, it would be safer at the farm. He fell into conversation with the guy walking down the road beside him. 'So why you coming out?' he asked the man.

'Heard it on the radio. Heard it on the TV show. Sounds like something I ought to see for myself. What about you?'

Aaron shrugged. 'My family's out there. I'm just going home.'

'Great!' the man enthused. 'You know the way?'

Aaron nodded. 'Sure. I even know a shortcut.' Aaron took a right turn and started over the fields. The man beside him followed at a jog. As they left the road, the people walking behind them began to follow and a tributary broke from the stream of people to head out into the fields.

---

Rogers thumped on the hood of the car as it pulled to a halt at the bottom of the hill. He rushed over and was speaking before Luka had even rolled the window down.

'I never thought I'd be glad to see you Wachowski, but…' he trailed away as his eyes drifted across the thing on the back seat.

"What the hell is _that?´ _he asked, jaw hanging in the air.

John Redman got out from the other side of the vehicle and called for his attention. 'We need to get this man inside somewhere, can you help us?'

Rogers frowned. 'What in tarnation…'

Luka got out from the car and raised his palms. 'Rogers, you really don't want to know.'

'The hell I don't; snapped Rogers. 'I don't even know what the hell I am doing here!'

John Redman started to open the rear doors. Behind them, Charlie, Little Pete and Erles were getting out of Little Pete's truck.

'Say what are you doing here?' Luka wondered aloud.

Rogers smacked a palm to the middle of his head. 'I got a lead on the shooter. He's here.' Rogers looked across the sea of people. 'Somewhere.'

'That's nice.' Luka replied. 'We'll take care of that next. First though, where's the girl I asked about?'

Rogers pointed up towards the Community Hall, adjoining the church. 'She's up there. They're about to have a concert or something. There's a TV crew and a bunch of people.'

Charlie walked over to them. 'Rogers, this is Charlie Wain..Charlie Manders.'

Rogers looked her up and down. 'Did you say Wainright?'

Luka nodded. Rogers looked Charlie, then at the crowds. 'This can't be good.'

'Maybe, maybe not.' Luka responded. 'It all depends on how we handle things.'

John Redman looked down over John Rainbirds body. 'We need to act quickly.'

'We need your help' Charlie implored him. 'Please.'

Rogers blinked. 'Ok.' He said finally. 'What do we do?'

Charlie nodded. 'Rogers, can you help these guys get him out of the car and up the hill? I need to find Vicki.'

Rogers nodded and Charlie gave Luka a squeeze on his arm. John Redman watched her walk up the hill, between the roped off sections that created a pathway, feeling disquieted.

'Help me get him out of here.' Luka said from over John Rainbirds body.

John Redman crouched down and they grasped the ends of the board.

-

The crowd parted to allow the stretcher bearers through. One of the crowd called out to them 'Hey, are you taking that guy up there to get him healed?'

The short man at the front of the stretcher gave him a funny look. 'I guess so.' He said and turned back to keep climbing. The man on the stretcher moaned softly and it quieted the crowd as they passed up the narrow gap roping off the pathway.

-

The Reverend ran down to meet Charlie as she began to walk up the hill. 'Mrs Manders, it's wonderful to see you!' He enthused, pumping her arms. 'Your daughter has completely astounded us all.'

Charlie smiled. 'She certainly does that. Is she here?'

The reverend nodded. 'Yes, she's helping the boys to set up now. Perhaps it would be better to wait until after the show, then I'm sure..'

'No' Charlie said, interrupting. 'I have to see her _now_, excuse me' she tried to step past him but the reverend out a hand out to stop her.

'Pardon me, my dear, I know it's not my place to interfere, but indulge an old minister for a moment.'

Charlie stopped and turned to look at him, looking pointedly at his restraining fingers. The Reverend let go of her arm. 'I'm sorry, but you have quite an effect on your daughter, and if you care about her, you won't upset her when she is about to do something wonderful.'

"Thanks Reverend,' Charlie stopped herself before she told him to take a hike. He was only trying to be nice and he obviously cared about Vicki. 'I know how much I've hurt her and we'll try to work it out, but this is kind of…an emergency.'

The Reverend nodded. 'I truly hope you two are able to work it out. She's a wonderful girl Mrs Manders. You should know that.'

Charlie smiled. 'I do Reverend.' She looked back to the boys hoisting the makeshift stretcher between them. 'We have to get up there before their arms wear out.'

'Reverend' Luka said as he passed by.

John Redman nodded and they followed Charlie up the hill. The Reverend let them pass by then followed them.

-

From the edge of the Hall, one of the men watched as they proceeded into the hall and then ran as quickly as he could back down the hill and towards the house, bursting in through the door.

'She's come Daniel, she's come!' he rasped.

Daniel looked up from where he sat and wiped his eyes.

'Thank you James. I'll be along presently.'

-

'Hey, who wants to hear some music?' Rufus called out to the crowd.

They responded joyfully and the band struck up the first song.

Vicki watched them from the side of the hall and people surged at the doorways, trying to get in. JJ sang and the audience pulsed against the front of the stage.

At the doorway, Vicki saw a flash of scarlet hair and her heart bounded. She pushed her way through the crowd until she came face to face with her mother. She couldn't hear anything above the din of the audience and the band, so she did the next best thing and threw her arms around her. Charlie hugged her back. Charlie gestured as if to say 'come outside' but Vicki shook her head, pointing to the stage. Charlie smiled sadly and nodded. 'I'll be outside' she mouthed. 'Come find me.'

Vicki nodded and hugged her one more time. Charlie hugged her back and the audience crashed and rose around them in time with the music.

-

Charlie pushed her way back to the roped off pathway, overrun now with people abandoning their discipline and just trying to get closer to the sound.

'We have to put him down somewhere, she'll come out.' Charlie yelled over the noise.

John Redman looked around and pointed to a gap in the people. 'This way.'

They walked as quickly and gently as they could until the reached the open door of one of the houses. John Redman laid his end of the board on the kitchen table and they slid it onto the centre. Luka was panting. 'Thank god, I thought my arms were about to get pulled out of their sockets. Where's your daughter.'

'She's coming' Charlie said.

'I hope she comes out soon.' Luka responded, watching the ragged gasps of breath from the man on the table.

John Redman stood up. The hairs on the back of his neck were rising. Two men stood at the door way. 'Luka, we've got company' he warned.

To their left, another man appeared at the doorway.

'Charlie Wainright.' The man said. Charlie looked up at him. A hint of recognition flickered over her face and her brow furrowed.

'Charlie Wainright.' The man said again.

'It's _Manders_. You really should have learned by now James.' Charlie said softly.

The man raised his hands, they were empty. 'Charlie Wainright, your brother in law wants to talk to you.'

Charlie laughed. 'He's going to need a spirit medium.'

A soft chuckle floated into the room. Charlie's face whitened. Luka felt his ears pop as the pressure in the room suddenly dropped. 'Oh shit.' he said to no one in particular.

John Redman instinctively moved to cover John Rainbirds body with his own.

A man stepped into the room, his raised palms palms open and facing them. 'Don't you know your own flesh and blood? Your family?'

Charlie snarled at him. '_You_ were never _my_ family Daniel. If this is your doing, so help me God, I will…'

Daniel fell to his knees and bowed his head. 'I am at your mercy, Charlie. You can do whatever it is you need to do.'

Charlie gasped. 'Huh?' she managed to say.

Daniel was weeping. 'All I ask is your forgiveness.'

'Hell no' Charlie said and reached out with her mind. She pulled back suddenly as John Redman came into view, bobbing up between them. 'What now?' she yelled at him. 'Get out of the goddam way!'

Luka burst out laughing and everyone turned to look at him. 'Hey, it's funny, ok?' he said. 'Look, don't I get a say in this?'

Charlie looked at him with a furious expression. 'You're kidding me, right?'

Luka shook his head and stood up. 'Nope. I say no more killing people.' Luka moved to stand next to John Redman, between her and Daniel. From behind them, a panting sound announced the arrival of Erles. 'Aha!' he cried, stopped and panted again. 'See what happens when you rush off and leave me at the bottom of an alpine hill.'

Charlie grunted and grabbed the sink, her hands flowing into it and turning it into a gooey pile of molten metal. Realising she was about to burn the floor, Charlie quickly withdrew the fire and it crystallised into a dali-esque household fixture.

'Whoa.' Said Luka.

Charlie smiled. 'That's a gift from Daniel. Didn't know I could do it until _that_ day.' She sighed. 'Oh get up off the floor Daniel.'

Daniel remained steadfastly on his knees. 'I cannot.' He was weeping.

Charlie rolled her eyes. 'Oh please.'

The Reverend came to the door, 'Mrs Manders, they'll be done with the first set in…oh…oh my' he said, looking into the room.

'Erles Nygaard' said Erles, taking The Reverends hand and shaking it.

'How do you do?' the Reverend responded on auto-pilot.

John Redman smiled at the Reverend. 'Reverend, I think this man needs to get something off his chest. Can you help?'

'I, ah, I don't take confession my friend…' The Reverend looked around the room and finished on Daniel, still on his knees. 'On second thoughts, perhaps it's time I tried.'

John Redman nodded. 'Thankyou Reverend. I think we can all help to lift this mans burden. Tell us Daniel, son of Isaiah, what has brought you so low that you cannot rise?'


	40. Chapter 39 interlude

The Faithful seemed to know it was time to rise. They stood in groups, families clustered together. Isaiah was herded inside in a rush of boots. He straightened himself up and called to the Faithful. 'It is time. They are upon us. Seal the doors.' He said, sagging into Daniels arms. The men hauled the thick board inwards and locked them into place with cross beams. Katy ran over to her husband and helped to prop him up. She looked into his vacant eyes. 'Isaiah…' she said gently, chancing his first name. 'Sara's not here.'

'No time, no time.' Isaiah muttered. 'We must make preparations, the Kingdom is at hand.'

'She _must_ come with us' Katy pleaded. 

Isaiah's eyes cleared for moment and Katy could see the deep cornflower blue that had mesmerised her so long ago. The same eyes that had made promises to her; that she had loved: that she had followed with an open heart.

'We _will_ all be together.' Isaiah said, taking her chin and looking deep into her eyes. 'You _do_ believe in me, don't you Katy?' he asked querulously.

Katy pushed her fears, her doubts, her lack of _faith,_ into the deepest recesses of her mind. Isaiah was the Prophet. The Kingdom was at hand. 'No my love. Where you lead, we will follow.' She answered.

Isaiah nodded. 'There is one here who is not fit to travel with us. We will despatch it to hell before we journey to heaven. Daniel, help me.'

Daniel put an arm around his father and helped draw him through the hall towards the offices. 'Make preparations for the Kingdom!' Daniel commanded as the Faithful parted from their path.

The light in the hall began to dim as shaft upon shaft of sunlight was cut in half by the slamming of shutters. Men, women and children began to pray.

A thundering of blows upon the door made the children scream. Daniel and Isaiah stopped. A voice could be heard yelling.

'Open the doors.' Isaiah whispered. Daniel nodded and one of the men threw the crossbeam back. Dalton charged against the doors one more time, stumbling on fallen blood as the door gave way. He fell forward, dropping Luka from his shoulder to the floor. Luka screamed and passed out as the bullet in his leg shifted. Dalton stood up and looked around the room. The men behind him moved to bar the door once more.

'Wait!' Dalton cried, but they ignored him. 'Pop, we have to get these people out of here, the police will be…'

Isaiah coughed and fell into a spasm of hacking and retching. 

Dalton's eyes grew wide. 'Daniel, come on man, this has got to end' he called to his brother. Daniel's answer was merely to pull Isaiah back upright and turn him back towards the offices. Dalton looked over to his mother. 'Mom, this man is hurt. I need you to care for him until I return, can you do that?'

Katy looked nervously at Luka lying on the floor of the hall. Blood had stained his blue uniform shirt and he had wet himself. 'Mom!' Dalton snapped, his face hardening. 'This is Luka. You _know_ him.'

'But he's one of the...' Katy stammered.

'_Look_ at him Mama! You've known him since he was eight years old Goddamnit! We can't let him bleed to death. We need an ambulance in here.' Dalton moved closer to her. 'I need to stop this before it gets any worse.' he said quietly.

Katy looked into the face of her eldest child. She nodded. 'I'll care for him until you come back.' Dalton started to run after his brother and father. Katy called to him. 'Sara's missing Dalton; will you find her for me?'

-

The door slammed shut before Sara could take her inside, but she wasn't worried. 'I know a shortcut!' she chirped happily. 'Come on Charlie!' Sara ran in front, pulling on Charlie's hand. 'This way!' she said.

Charlie seemed to float along behind her, drawn by the small hand towards the back of the hall. They passed by two bodies lying on the grass. Sara didn't seem to notice.

The door at the rear of the building was shut. Sara frowned. 'They won't let us in!' she said unhappily.

Charlie smiled. 'It's just like the three little pigs. Shall we blow their house down?'

Sara nodded. Charlie looked at the stout door made from solid wood planks, she imagine them disappearing before her, blown by the wind, but something in her mind cautioned her. Ben was inside. Instead, she felt the door with her palms. Each of the metal nails inside seemed to wink at her from within the wood. They sparked and sizzled within the door, responding to her call. Charlie gave the door a push and it collapsed into a pile of dry kindling. Sara clapped her hands and shrieked. She grabbed Charlies hand once more and pulled her inside.

-

Dalton had to barge past the men congregating near the office. They eyed him peculiarly, but were not so bold as to block his path completely. Daniel had deposited Isaiah in a chair opposite Ben, who was still tied unhappily to the chair. Ben looked up as Dalton entered with visible relief. Dalton dropped down on one knee beside his father. Isaiah was talking to himself. 'The end, the end...'

Dalton shook his head. 'No Pop, it isn't the end, we can work this out.'

Isaiah suddenly returned to the present. 'We must brace ourselves for what is to come.'

Daniel quietly withdrew, robbing Dalton of his last hope of support. Dalton looked around the room at the stony, impassive faces of the men. He felt his hopes slipping away. 

'It's ok Dalton.' Ben said unexpectedly. 'You tried, my boy.'

'_My_ boy?' hissed Isaiah, leaping from his chair. He struck at Ben but failed, half falling across the table. 'You tried to take him from me, but he is _loyal_, he is _true!_'

'I wouldn't be in such a hurry to meet my maker, Isaiah, for he's sure to consign you to hell.' Ben spat at him.

Isaiah tried again to rouse himself and staggered towards Ben. Dalton seized the initiative and grabbed a shotgun from the man to his left. The man released the gun, expecting Dalton to avenge the insult to his father and was extremely surprised when the barrel swung upwards and into his face.

'You, out now. Get those goddam doors open.' Dalton barked. The man tensed but remained motionless. 

Isaiah rounded on Dalton in horror. 'What? What? WHAT?' he shrieked.

Dalton cocked the hammers. 'This is over pop. No more. We're all getting out of here; we're going to surrender to the police.'

Isaiah shook his head, his vigour renewed in betrayal. 'No, not you Dalton…'

Dalton turned the shotgun on him.

'Dad, I love you.' Dalton said and squeezed the trigger.

-

A hot wind blew through the doorway to the outside. The door parted and sank aside in dust. Sara clapped her hands and ran into the room. Papa was near the table, he was looking very grey. Charlies Grandpa Ben was at the table on a chair with his arms behind him. He didn't look happy, but he would be soon, because _everyone_ was here now! Even Papa might be happy. Dalton was there too, and some other men. Sara ran over to give Papa a hug.

There was a very loud sound that hurt her right ear and then something sharp and horrible bit her on the arm and she was pushed into Papa. The biting pain in her arm became very uncomfortable and suddenly burst into shrieking and searing hot points of light. Sara screamed.

-

The Faithful to Dalton's left grabbed at the shotgun barrel, sending the shots wide, but Dalton saw a small golden shape sail sideways and collide with Isaiah. 

Dalton's heart stopped, a great tearing pain filled his head. He howled in rage and horror.

Sara was screaming, bleeding; screaming.

Dalton released the shotgun and grabbed the Faithfuls throat, pushing his thumb clearly into the man's windpipe. The man fell away in slow motion. The air had become as firm as snow, resisting Daltons' will, fighting to stop him from moving. He clawed it aside and struck the second man before he could raise his own rifle, shoulder charging him into the wall with such force that bones snapped. He couldn't stop the last one; he was too far away and he felt, rather than heard, the approach of the buckshot from the man's shotgun. Dalton was cursed with a perfect moment of consciousness; he could see each and every single one of his failures and their repercussions. His self loathing would be his last memory.

And then the fire came.

-

Charlie saw Sara run into the path of Dalton's misguided shot. She reached out and pushed the incandescent metal to the side, catching the bulk of it and sending it into the wall, but she missed the first few eager beads of lead. Sara was hurt. Charlie sighed and added it to the list of sins that would soon be expiated in fire. It was time to burn out this disease.

Isaiah himself was staring at her as she approached in all her glory. 'What an asshole' she thought to herself. 'What a selfish asshole.'

Dalton was a mill of arms and legs, fighting with several of the faithful. One of them was aiming to shoot him. She let him pull the trigger. It was safer to have the gun empty. The shots evaporated into steam as they left the barrel, the heat liquefying the shotgun as it travelled upwards. For good measure, Charlie pushed the metal a little, sending it spraying over the man and he joined the screaming chorus. The hot wind swirled around her. She could see Ben, a little battered but otherwise unharmed. It registered on the periphery of her consciousness, but Isaiah was her primary concern. He shrank back before her, hiding behind Ben, clutching Sara to him, limp and bloodied. 

'Coward' she sneered at him. 'You're a coward Isaiah. Too afraid to face death on your own. Come out now. Come out and tell me what a whore I am.'

Dalton was staggering to his feet. "Charlie!' he gasped. Charlie raised a palm, blocking him with the force of the gesture. 

Charlie faced Isaiah. 'You sent men to beat up an old lady and kidnap an old man? You want to control everything and you can't. No one can control anything Isaiah.'

Isaiah quailed. Even Ben looked nervous. 'Charlie…' Ben said quietly.

'You can't save him Ben.' Charlie snapped.

'Darlin', I don't want to save him, I want you to get us out of here! Toast him later for all I care!' Ben said earnestly, flexing his wrists within the ropes. 'The girl, she's hurt.'

'Luka's in there Charlie, he's bleeding to death. We have to get these people out of here.' Dalton said urgently.

Charlie felt the fire within her. It screamed for release. It demanded retribution. Charlie breathed in and out. All sound had ceased. She looked at the floor. 'Fine.' She said at last.

Behind her, a gas can clattered through the inner doorway as Daniel dropped it on the floor. He stared at Charlie. Charlie felt his glare and turned her head to him. 'Today is not a good day to mess with me Daniel, ok?' she warned.

He wasn't glaring. He was smiling. 'I knew you'd come!' he said eagerly. 'I knew you'd come.' Around Daniels feet a rainbow surfaced river was running. 'I have prepared the way, I have made ready for the Kingdom.'

'Uh oh' said Ben, nodding at the creeping liquid seeping into the room. 'Darlin' hold your fire for the love of god.'

Charlie blinked. The metallic smell of gasoline pervaded the room.

Daniel was walking towards her, sloshing in the petrol. 'I knew when you revealed your holy fire to us that you had come to take him!'

Charlie moved backwards, bumping into the table.

Dalton tried to step between them. 'Daniel, she's not a devil.'

Daniel embraced his brother. 'I know Dal, I know. She's an angel. She is here to bring the Kingdom!'

Dalton looked in amazement at his brother. 'No Daniel, she's just a girl.'

Isaiah released Sara to the floor and dived for the abandoned rifle beside Ben. 

'Spawn of Satan!' Isaiah shrieked and grabbed at the trigger.

The rifle fired ineffectively into the wall as Isaiah lost his grasp, but the sparks danced over the vapours of the gasoline and the air ignited, sending a pressure wave through the building that made it billow gently as the fire ran its path back into the main hall.

Instantly, everything was on fire. Charlie felt the bite of the flames on her jeans. 'Oh, this isn't good' she thought to herself.

Dalton was on fire. Daniel was burning. Sara's golden hair was smouldering yellow. The air was going from the room.

Dalton was trying to drag Sara out through the doorway, the doorway that was now acting as an oxygen giving bellow to the fire raging in the mail hall. Charlie ran over to Ben and pulled him free from the chair, his bonds severed with a pop of flame, helping him to stagger outside, coughing. Dalton took her elbow and guided them a few steps from the porch where they collapsed into the grass, rolling. Dalton covered Sara's body with his, trying to smother the flames. Charlie pushed him aside and looked at the small patches of angry flame and had a conversation with them. 'Ok boys.' She said to them. 'Time to go' and she called upon the Big Bad. It snuffed the flames out with a wave of her eyes.

Dalton coughed, pointing. Charlie followed his finger and found her shoulder on fire. She blinked the flames out of existence.

'I gotta go back!' Dalton gestured to the hall, yelling above the roaring sound of the flames.

Charlie shook her head. 'No Dal, it's too dangerous'

'My _mom_ is still in there, so are all the kids!'

Charlie grabbed his arm, trying to hold him back. 'It's too late Dal, the oxygen's gone from the room; they will have asphyxiated!'

'Luka's in there too Charlie, come on, we can't just let them die!' Dalton shrugged off her grasp and ran back into the building. Charlie silently cursed her hero of a husband, yet followed quickly behind him. Inside the doorway, Daniel was cradling Isaiah in his lap, waiting for the flames to engulf them. Dalton shielded himself from the intense heat coming from the hall. 'Charlie!' he screamed, pointing to the corona of fire around the door. Charlie called to the flames. They fell away, but fought against her, retreating but not dying.

'Dalton, I can't stop it all, it's taken hold.' She said breathlessly. Dalton scowled. 

'Can you open up a path?' he yelled.

Charlie looked through the golden doorway at the sea of flame before her. Most of the room was firmly ablaze. A pocket of people lay at the end of the hall closest to the door where the flames had yet to find their way. Charlie pushed a channel through the flames and Dalton charged into it. She felt the groaning of the timbers; not long now, the building was primed for collapse. As Dalton reached the far end of the hall, it groaned and buckled as the roof began to shift. He was swallowed in the yellow roar.

Charlie looked at the flames. They were insistent now. They had claimed this place on earth and would not be quieted, but Charlie had always been a fighter. She smiled as she stepped to the edge of the chasm in her mind and leapt into the oblivion.

-

From the observation point on the hill, the blossom of flame licked up into the sky. Uniformed officers were running back and forth. An Ambulance was opening its door to receive the first of the casualties from the gunfight on the hill.

'Move in! Move in!' The officer in charge was yelling into his field microphone. 

An explosion lifted parts of the building into the sky.

The gathered emergency services watched as the sun seemed to rise from Keepers Hill.


	41. embers chapter 40

The boys were midway through the third song of the set so Vicki felt it safe to go find her mother. Having her Mom show support was wonderful. It added to the jumble of emotions she felt looking at the boys on stage and seeing the rapturous eyes of the crowd drawn to them.

Vicki moved smoothly out between the people tapping their feet and clapping along and into the cooler evening. The crowds had grown even deeper if anything and it took her a full five minutes to clear through them by walking a little up the rise. She could see lights on in one of the houses and she began walking towards it. People were clustered around the doorway, the Reverend, _Erles? _Vicki began walking quickly. There seemed to be a circle of people inside the kitchen of the house.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she quickly answered it, shielding it against the ambient noise.

'Hello? Hello?'

A crackled voice came through on the phone. 'V..ck..wh…e you?'

Vicki recognised the voice. 'Phil? Phil? Where are you?'

'I'm at the bottom of the hill, there's a squillion people here.'

Vicki began to scan the crowd at the bottom of the hill. 'I can't see you.'

'Do you know where your mother is?'

Vicki nodded to herself. 'Yes, she's up here near me. Are you okay?'

'I need to see you both. Can you tell these people to make a hole or something?'

'I'll try, hold on.' Vicki walked back towards the path. 'Can you guys please make a path up here?' she called out. No one heard her, she tried again. 'I said, can you please move out of the pathway.'

Again she was drowned out by music. Something within her stirred and she touched the arm of one of the people on the fringe of the crowd. The man nodded back to her, so she tugged on his arm until he came down to ear level. 'I need to get these people off the path, can you help me get these people to move?' she asked.

The man jumped up, energised. He nodded vigorously and started shaking those nearby him. Vicki repeated the question to four more people and soon the crowd began to disperse from the pathway. At the bottom of the Hill Vicki could see Phil. She waved to him and he came running up the hill in big lumbering steps. As he approached, Vicki flung herself against him.

'Oh Phil!' she gasped. Phil hugged her back. 'Where's your mom?'

Vicki looked over her shoulder. 'They're all in there.'

Phil nodded. He gripped her tightly. 'All these people, you moved them yourself?'

Vicki shook her head. 'No, I just asked a few of them to help me.'

Phil peered at her, strangely. 'Ok. We gotta see your mom.'

-

Daniel was silent. It crept out from him and somehow muffled the music that was shaking the walls. The concert was in full swing.

The Reverend shook his head. 'I don't understand all of this. I'm sorry Daniel, I don't know how I can help you.'

Daniel remained on his knees, head bowed.

Seconds ticked by.

'Well somebody say something' Luka grumbled.

'You didn't tell me about that part' John Redman chided him.

'I don't remember it.' Luka snapped in reply.

'But it' not the whole story yet, is it?' John said, certain of it. 'Come on people!' he said, waving his arms. 'Don't you get it? None of this can be right until we get it all out. All of it.'

John Rainbird wheezed from the table. He was laughing. Charlie looked daggers at him.

John Redman gave Luka a shove. 'You're the detective, what is missing here?'

Luka blinked. 'What are you asking me for?'

'What happened to Dalton?'

Luka made a gesture at Charlie. 'Um. Not now, hey?'

Charlie laughed. 'Don't spare my feelings Luka.'

Luka stepped away from John Redman and confronted her. 'Someone butchered Dalton so you fried Isaiah in retaliation. Is that what you wanted me to say?'

Charlie slapped him, but Luka caught her hand. 'I always knew you had a mean streak in you Charlie.'

A voice gasped behind them. Everyone turned to see Vicki holding her hand to her mouth. Behind her, Phil loomed large and grey.

'Charlie' Phil said. 'We have to get out of here, now.'

'Wait a minute!' John Redman pleaded. 'You all agreed to help.' John gestured at the motionless figure on the kitchen table. 'You can't leave _him_ now!'

Phil stepped into the room, rising threateningly over the stairs. 'It's time to go. _Now_.'

Charlie heard something in his voice. 'What is it Phil?'

'I hope you don't mind us joining in this discussion.' said a voice from behind them. 'Someone very helpfully cleared a path for us.' An old man with a cane and a young dark skinned man were walking over from the path. He turned his blind eyes to Phil, 'Dr Rachmann.', and then unerringly to Charlie. 'Ms Anderson.'

'It's Manders' Charlie said automatically. She peered at the man. 'Do I know you?'

The old man sighed. 'Yes Ms…Manders…I'm afraid we have met before.' He flipped up the sunglasses. 'Once; when I was a young man and you a very young girl.'

John Redman separated Luka and Charlie with his hands so he could step between them. 'Where's Cassie?' he demanded of Phil.

'She's waiting in the car. I said I would find you.'

John looked at Phil sharply for a moment but was interrupted as Charlie spoke. 'I know who you are.' she snarled to the old man. 'I know who you are. God damn you. Haven't you people had _enough_?'

The young Asian man stepped protectively in between them. Vicki came and stood by her mother, facing them.

The old man smiled. 'Felipe, I want you to meet some of your family. This is Vicki and her mother Charlie. They are your cousins. Felipe's grandfather was part of the Project, so in a way, you are all related.'

'Great. Another happy customer.' Charlie said acidly.

Vicki automatically reached out to shake Felipe's hand. Felipe smiled as she did so. 'Hello. I am Felipe'

'I'm Vicki' she replied as if it was entirely normal.

'This is all quite peculiar' Erles muttered to the Reverend.

'May we come inside a moment?' The old man enquired.

'Sure? Why not. It's like a big family reunion'. Charlie said, pulling and prodding the men until they got the idea and formed a circle around the body on the table, allowing everyone into the kitchen. 'Let me make the introductions. Secret agent guy, this is…'

'Jim, please call me Jim' said the old man.

Charlie clapped her hands 'Ok Jim. Lets all get acquainted. Everybody, this is Jim. He and his buddies killed my mother. I think my father sent him blind.' She pointed to figure on the table. 'That's John Rainbird. He used to work with them. He tried to kill me and then killed my father. Now he's lying in agony and we're hoping to kill him.' She stomped over to Daniel and dragged him up from the floor. He jumped as she touched him, but Charlie grabbed a hold firmly and pulled him over to a chair. 'You.' She said. 'Sit.' She took a deep breath. 'This is my psychopathic brother-in-law Daniel, who managed to destroy what was left of my early life. He should be dead but he plainly isn't.' She pointed to Luka. 'This here is Luka; he wanted to lay me so bad it hurts.'

'Hey!' Luka yelled.

'Charlie…' Phil said, trying to slow her.

Charlie laughed again. 'Oh no boys, it all comes out tonight. Let's get it out in the open, Right John Redman? John here is on a spirit quest to piss me off. That's his uncle there on the table. John is trying to make everything better, but he can't either.' She put her hands on her hips. 'Well I guess everybody's met. Ok John. Here's your pow wow. What now?'

John looked around the sea of faces, uncertainly. Almost all the pieces were in his grasp, he could feel it. "I don't know.' He said to himself, 'I don't know.'

'We should heal the sick man.' Felipe said, his voice bright and friendly.

John Redman smiled. 'He's right. There's no time for anger now Charlie.'

Charlie had tears in her eyes. She shook her head, stamped her feet. 'No no no!' she yelled. 'What gives you the right to tell me not to be angry? Why shouldn't I be angry, for what you.' Her finger stabbed out at Daniel. 'And you.' Her finger stabbed out again at the old man. 'Did to me? What did I do to deserve it?'

'Nothing.' Jim replied. 'You did nothing. You were a child. It was deeply unfair. I am sorry.'

Charlie's rant was brought abruptly to a halt.

'I am sorry' Daniel echoed. 'I am sorry.'

'Well I'm fucking not.' snapped Luka. 'You act like you're the only one who's had a tough time of it. Screw you.' He added.

'Can we not help the sick man now and be angry later?' Felipe asked innocently.

The room fell quiet.

John walked over to Vicki. 'Please. Please try to help this man.'

'I don't know, what I, I .' Vicki mumbled.

Charlie threw her hands in the air. 'Don't you get it John, I blocked her! It won't work. I've been trying to tell you!'

'Blocked what?' Vicki asked, growing alarmed.

Charlie looked at her daughter. 'When you were a baby. You did something…something bad.'

Vicki gasped again.

'It wasn't your fault!' Charlie rushed to say, running over to grasp Vicki's hands. 'It wasn't your fault, but you had a…you had…oh jeez. Help me somebody.' Charlie faltered.

Phil rescued her. 'You had a special talent, much like your grandfather had. It was very dangerous when you were a child. She had to take precautions to keep you safe.'

'Gandpa Ben? What talent? What precautions?' Vicki said nervously.

Charlie began to cry.

'Mom. What precautions?' Vicki said, trying to lift her mothers face up.

'Vicki, will you help him?' John Redman asked.

Vicki shook her head. 'I don't know, I don't know how.'

The Reverend touched her shoulder. 'Victori…Vicki. Sorry. I don't understand any of this, but if you can help that man, it's the right thing. I know it.'

Vicki looked at him and nodded numbly.

'Felipe..' Jim said quietly and Felipe took Vicki's hand and guided her to the table.

On the kitchen table lay a map of the ruin of a human body. An eye rolled slowly back and forth in the last of the body's fluids. Vicki looked at it in horror.

'It's Death' whispered Erles.

'No, it's Hell,' corrected John Redman. John crouched over the head of the table and whispered to John Rainbird, soothingly. 'You must tell him to let go, Vicki. He won't listen to anyone else. You must know the story and you must decide whether to forgive him.' John spun around to Charlie. 'How did John Rainbird hurt you?'

Charlie wiped her eyes. 'He betrayed me. He killed my beloved father. Vicki never knew him. Never knew the grandmother who gave Vicki her first name.'

'Do you still hate him?'

'With all my heart.' Charlie said thickly.

John returned his gaze to Vicki. 'Even though he has done these things to you, I ask you to forgive him.'

Vicki looked back to her mother. 'Mom?'

Charlie faced away. After a moment, she nodded.

John led her hand down to rest gently on John Rainbirds chest. 'Let him go.' John said.

Vicki tried to pull away but John held her hand down until she relaxed. As Vicki beheld the ruins before her, she felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and compassion.

'I forgive you.' She said and it washed through all of them, as if a soothing breeze had sprung her from lips. The body on the table moaned.

John frowned. 'He's fighting it. You need to be more forceful. Tell him to let go Vicki, tell him.'

'I'm not going to tell him to die!' Vicki said, bewildered.

'_Please!' _John begged.

Vicki shook her head, burying her face in Phil's shoulder. Phil stroked the back of her head. 'She's trying John. She just can't do that. It's the block.'

John Redman sagged. 'His spirit is slipping away now. I can't think of what else to do…'

'If I may, perhaps this 'block' you are referring to can be done away with?' Erles chimed in. Everyone turned to look at him. 'Well. Can't you?'

Charlie shrugged. 'It was done by a local Doctor…I think it was…'

'Post hypnotic suggestion.' Phil said softly.

'Fortunately we have just the specialist for the task.' Erles said happily. 'Dr Rachmann, perhaps you might test your hand.'

'Wait a minute' Luka said suddenly. 'We don't want to go messing with...'

'I'll do it.' Phil said. 'If Vicki wants me to.'

Vicki looked up at him. 'Will it hurt?'

Phil shook his head. 'Not a bit.'

--

Up on stage, Aki counted the boys into song number five. Rufus looked at the run sheet near his feet and moved closer to JJ for a moment. 'Man this is going fast. We'll do two more and take a break, huh?'

JJ nodded.

Rufus looked at JJ for a moment and smiled as they struck up the next number.

--

Steve had skirted the outer edges of the crowd until he could get a vantage point. It required a little tree climbing but eventually he got a firm observation point over the hall, church and the buildings. A not half-bad band was rocking it out on the porch of the hall, overlooking crowds flowing out around them and down the hill. Steve assembled the rifle and unfolded the bipod, laying it down the length of a branch. He checked the earpiece. It was on but silent. He used the scope to check out the crowd, zooming in and around. There were no signs of the other teams. He had spotted a black clad group bugging out just after the explosion earlier. Maybe they were being withdrawn now that he was in position. In any case, this was the waiting part. He would settle in and wait for the call.

--

Aaron stumbled up the hill and found a wall of people where there should have been open field. His eyes grew even wider than usual and he trotted around the side of the group, listening to the music. A clear path was running up the hill towards the side of the hall so he set off towards it. The people were intent on the music and ignored him as he pushed his way through. When he reached the clear path he started walking up the hill and one man turned to look at him. 'Hey.' The man said. 'Is your name Aaron?'

Aaron frowned. 'What of it?'

Rogers smiled. 'I've been looking for you.'

Aarons hand was already moving for the pistol in his pocket before the words left Rogers' mouth. Aaron brandished it in front of him. 'Well, you found me, what are you going to do about it?'

Rogers raised his hands, high enough to let his coat dangle and reveal the badge clipped to his belt. 'Not a damn thing.' He said, withdrawing slowly. Aaron kept the gun between him and Rogers, backing up towards the houses. He looked over his shoulder and then ran for the crowd. Rogers lowered his hands and cursed. He took out his mobile and called base. He put his phone down as he saw the bank of police cars approaching and ran down the hill towards them.

The cars screeched to a halt, blocking the aisle that had been left between the parked cars. The Captain launched himself from the rear of the cruiser. 'Rogers! What the hells going on?' he demanded.

Rogers puffed for a moment, having run down the last part of the slope. 'Wachowski's up there somewhere, my suspect just ran in there with a gun.' Rogers panted for a moment and then looked up at all of the police cars. 'Sir, why is _everybody_ here?'

The Captain scowled. 'We got an emergency request from Homeland Security. There was an explosion, something about a terrorist group. We can't find any wreckage, but the highway is a mess back there. Who left the access corridor?

'The organisers Sir. This just seems to be a rock concert.'

'When I get my hands on that homeland guy I'm going to wring his neck.' The Captain growled, wringing his hands for good measure.

'What about my perp?' Rogers said. 'It's going to be hard to find him again in all these people.'

The Captain shook his head. 'No confrontations Rogers. Not with this many people. We're going to leave a couple of uniforms and get everyone else out of here, try and get the traffic mess cleared out. You let the kid run and we'll take him down later. I want all these people cleared out of here, when they're _ready_ to go. Nice, neat, no riots, no homicides. I am going to go back to the office and start calling some Department Heads. This is giving me indigestion.' The Captain saluted Rogers and climbed back into the cruiser. Rogers saluted and watched in amazement as cars tried to get out of the Captains way.


	42. Chapter 41

Phil led Vicki through the kitchen and into the living room. He seated her on an ill sprung sofa and took a chair from the table.

'Bear with me; I haven't done this in a long time.' He said over his shoulder. 'Charlie, come here.'

Charlie walked over, shaking her head. 'Phil, this isn't such a good idea.'

Phil grimaced. 'Maybe. What else do you suggest?'

Charlie wanted to kill him for being so stubbornly reasonable.

She took a deep breath. 'What do you want me to do?'

Phil looked back to Vicki. 'If I understand it correctly, when you were a baby, a doctor put you into a hypnotic state and told you something. I am going to try and get you back there Vicki. If I think there's anything wrong, I am going to stop it and pull you out, ok?'

Charlie went to sit next to her but Phil caught her leg, holding her back. Charlie relaxed. 'It's ok Honey.' Charlie reached out and took Vicki's hand, giving it a squeeze.

Vicki swallowed and nodded.

'Did he use a flashlight or something?' Phil asked.

Charlie thought about it. 'Yes. And one of those head things...'

'A mirror' Vicki said softly. 'There was a mirror.'

Phil looked over to John Redman at the Kitchen table and raised his eyebrows. John got the hint. 'Wachowski, your flashlight. We need a mirror too.'

'We don't keep'em.' James answered, hovering nervously over Daniel who sat still in the chair where Charlie had placed him. John Redman nodded. 'Cassie would have one.'

'No time.' Phil said quickly.

Erles stepped forward and opened his wallet. 'I have one,' he said, opening the designer bundle. John Redman seized a steak knife from the kitchen drawer and freed the mirror from its leather housing with a stroke.

'That's Gucci!' Erles complained.

'Not any more it isn't' Luka observed wryly, pulling out a small pencil torch and handing it to John Redman. John brought the mirror and torch to Phil. 'Ok, now what?'

'The Doctor had it on his head band.' Charlie said, thinking back.

John rolled his eyes. 'We're a little short of headbands right now; can we just get on with it?'

Phil nodded. 'Scoot out of the way.' Phil flicked the flashlight on as John retreated to join the others watching from the kitchen. He held the torch up in front of her eyes and began to move it. 'Wait' Vicki said. 'The mirror. I need to see the mirror.'

Phil snapped the torch off. 'This isn't working. There's no way I can do this with all of you people in here.'

'Ok, everybody follow me!' The Reverend barked authoritatively. 'Move it gentlemen.'

The men began to file out through the kitchen and gather outside the kitchen door. John Redman went to follow them but Phil called him back. 'John, you and Charlie stay with me. Hold on a minute.' He said to Vicki and got up from the chair, taking John Redman by the arm. 'I need you to do that thing you do.'

John shook his head. 'Huh?'

Phil's grip on his arm was surprisingly firm.

'I need you to take us back there. To when it happened.'

John shook his head again. 'Spell it out for me Dr Rachmann'

Phil squinted at him for a moment, and then sighed. 'I haven't done hypnosis since college. I have no idea what this doctor did, but Charlie and Vicki were _there_. You can make them remember, make them say it. You can take them back there.'

John looked blankly at Phil for a moment, until the thoughts coalesced. 'You need to hear the story?'

Phil nodded. 'Yes. I mean, no, I don't need to hear it; I need to get her into a hypnotic state. You can bring that out, I've seen it.'

John blinked. 'I can?'

Phil squeezed again. 'The _initial_ hypnotic state. The first time. You bring them back to that moment and I can take over from there.'

John nodded and walked over to the couch where Vicki sat. Charlie stood beside the couch with her arms folded as John dropped down onto the floor, cross legged.

'What now?' Charlie said, exasperated.

Phil cautioned her with his eyes. 'John wants you to tell him a story Vicki.'

'Vicki, I want you to tell me about the lake.'

Vicki's eyes widened. 'Lake? What lake? What about the lake?'

'She doesn't remember!' Charlie interrupted.

'Help me out here…' John Redman said to Phil.

'Charlie…' Phil said, taking her in his arms. Charlie quieted. Vicki looked at the two of them and then back to John Redman.

John Redman smiled. Vicki could tell he was a nice man, but scary in some way she couldn't identify.

He opened his mouth, a cavern so wide she could fall into it, deeper and deeper, with no bottom, nothing to stop her from falling, for ever.

'Vicki, tell me about the day the class went to the Lake.'

--

Everybody had to make a paper link. The paper was purple, or blue, or red, depending on which piece Ms Putnam had given you. Vicki wanted the Yellow piece, but Ms Putnam gave that to Marjorie, because Marjorie had yellow curly hair. Vicki thought this was unfair, because her hair was brown and _she_ had been given a purple page, so it didn't matter what your hair colour was, because Vicki's wasn't purple, so it wasn't very fair, so Vicki got up and took the yellow page away from Marjorie and started making her own paper link. Marjorie, who was a tattle tale, started crying and Ms Putnam came over, very angry and scolded Vicki, taking away the yellow paper and giving it back to Marjorie. This left Vicki with the horrible, nasty purple and so Vicki went and snatched the paper back. Marjorie had stopped crying because she was never really sad; she only did it so Vicki would get into trouble, so Vicki gave her a pinch. Marjorie looked around to see where Ms Putnam was, before breaking into tears, but she had gone to the door to talk to one of the other teachers, so Marjorie waited until Vicki sat down and then threw the small glitter covered rock that served as a paper weight right at Vicki's head. It collided with Vicki's cheek and sent her reeling backwards on her chair. She fell over and everybody laughed. Ms Putnam heard the noise and came back from the door, a very stern look on her face. Everybody was pointing and laughing and Marjorie had a big smile on her face now, _and_ had the yellow paper again.

'Well young lady, what am I going to do with you? What should we do?' Ms Putnam said, puffing out her big cheeks.

Vicki looked right back at the mean woman and the mean class, all still laughing.

'You, you can all go jump in th'lake!' Vicki said as meanly as she could, remembering it from Granpa' Bens secret cussing when Mama wasn't looking.

Ms Putnam looked at her strangely for a moment, and then gathered her coat. 'Come on children.' She said cheerfully, 'we're going to the lake.'

The whole class had filed out behind Ms Putnam and Vicki had stayed at the table, making paper links. Now she had _all _the colours to play with, but somehow it wasn't fun any more, and her cheek hurt.

Mr Goff stuck his head into the room and called out. 'Hey Vicki. Where'd the class go?'

Vicki shrugged.

Mr Goff stepped into the classroom. 'What are you doing there?'

Vicki looked at the paper links. She had cut them all to pieces now. She shrugged again. Mr Goff came closer, peering at her, 'Vicki, what happened to your eye?'

'Marjorie Wilmot threw a rock at me.' She said unhappily.

Mr Goff came over and took her chin in his hands, turning her head. 'We'd better take you to see the nurse. Come with me Vicki.' Vicki took his hand and followed him out into the corridor.

"Where did Ms Putnam go?' Mr Goff asked her as they walked.

Vicki shrugged. 'Maybe they went outside.' Mr Goff nodded. He opened the door for her, just like for a big girl, and took her into the nurses' office.

'Well what have we here?' asked the Nurse, looking up from her desk as they entered.

Mr Goff hoisted Vicki up onto the bench. 'Marjorie threw a rock at me.' Vicki explained. The Nurse scowled. 'That's not very nice is it?'

'Can you take a look? I have to go check on something.' Mr Goff said with a smile, opening the door.

'Of course.' The nurse said, smiling as well. 'Vicki and I will be just fine here, wont we?' Vicki nodded. The nurse touched her cheek and she winced. 'There there, it's not too bad; we'll just put a cold pack on it, won't we?' The nurse took a cold pack out of a chest freezer and wrapped it in a cloth and placed it gently on Vicki's cheek. The cold was soothing.

'There we go, that will make it feel better. Now maybe we should call your Mother?'

When Mama came, she was very unhappy and angry. She was going to get Marjorie good. Probably even pinch her, or maybe pinch Marjorie's Mama. Vicki wasn't too sure on the last bit, but it seemed to make sense. When her Mama asked her what had happened, Vicki told her and Mama became very white. She took Vicki straight home to Granma and Granpa, which was better anyway. Mama said she didn't have to go back to school right away, which was nicer, even if they didn't have cartoons like the other kids, she could still play in the fields and have adventures, like the time she met the scarecrow who watched their house and talked to him, even if no one believed her.

The next day, Mama brought an old wrinkly brown man to see her, he was a Doctor, and he had a white coat and a black bag that was as creased as he was. He wanted to play a game, which was good, because Vicki was bored anyway.

--

'Vicki, shall we play a game?'

Vicki squirmed in the chair.

'I don't wanna' she said in a child-like voice.

Phil turned off the flashlight. He shook his head in amazement. 'She's down all right. Ok. Here we go.'

'Who's the scarecrow?' Charlie asked, listening intently

Phil shrugged. 'These are childhood memories Charlie, not everything is literal. John, step out of the way now.'

John picked himself up and smoothly moved out of the way.

'Vicki, where are you now?' Phil asked.

'I'm in Granma's room. We're playing a game.'

'Who's with you in the room Vicki?'

'Mama's here. Dr Chandrasekhar is here. A girl is here.'

Charlie shot Phil a worried glance. Phil lifted a hand to keep Charlie from speaking.

'You see a girl?' He asked.

Vicki nodded.

Charlie made a 'what gives' gesture. Phil glared at her.

'Are you looking at her?' Phil asked.

'Yes' Vicki said flatly.

'What is happening now?'

'We're playing a game with a light. I have to tell that girl something.'

'What do you have to tell her?'

'I have to tell her a secret and she must promise to keep it.'

'What secret?'

'She must be very careful when she talks to people. She must never tell anybody what to do, never ever.'

Charlie sucked in a gasp.

Phil stilled her with a wave. 'That's very big secret. Will she keep it?'

'Oh yes.' Vicki whispered. 'Oh yes.'

Phil's brow furrowed. 'Can we talk to the girl?'

Vicki shook her head. 'The Doctor wants me to wave goodbye.'

'No!' Phil said suddenly. He calmed his voice quickly. 'Let's play just another bit longer, ok?'

Vicki shrugged, 'Ok.'

'Can you still see the girl?'

'Yes.' Vicki responded in monotone.

Phil turned the flashlight on and held up the mirror. 'Can you see the girl?'

Vicki nodded. 'Yes. She's right there.'

'That's very good. Do you know what her name is?'

'Yes. Vicki replied. 'Her name is Vicki.'

'Good. I need you to tell the girl something, can you do that for me?'

Vicki squirmed again. Charlie moved forward but stopped at Phil's side.

'I need you to close your eyes, when I count to four, one, two, three…' Vicki's eyelids drooped. 'Very good' Phil continued. 'Now when you open your eyes, you're going to see that girl, but now she has grown into a beautiful young woman. Open your eyes.'

Vicki opened her eyes and smiled.

'She is beautiful' she murmured.

Phil smiled. 'Yes, yes she is. Will you tell her something?'

'Yes.' Vicki said, still smiling.

'Good, good. I want you to tell her that it's ok to tell her secret now.'

Vicki squirmed again. 'No, not.'

'She's all grown up now, she's not a little girl anymore, I want you to tell her it's ok to tell her secret now.'

'No, no.' Vicki said, struggling inside invisible bonds.

Phil was moving forward from the lip of the chair. 'Look at the girl' he demanded. 'She is a woman now.'

Vicki sat bolt upright, looking into the small mirror as Phil pressed it closer towards her. 'Look at her.' He said again. 'She is all grown up now and she can decide for herself. She can tell her secrets if she wants to. Do you want to?'

Vicki fought against it, but Phil brought the mirror closer and closer. 'Do you see her? Do you see her?' Phil repeated, bringing the mirror closer. 'Do you see her?'

Vicki tried to pull away but something fixed her to the spot. Phil slid forward and the mirror surged towards her. As it touched her Vicki screamed and the air seemed to split apart at the sound.

Charlie abandoned her restraint and ran to Vicki, cradling her in her arms. Vicki blinked and looked up. 'Mama?'

Charlie looked into her daughter eyes. 'Yes baby, it's me.'

Vicki hugged her back. 'Where have you been mama?'

Charlie began to cry. 'I've been right here baby, I've always been right here.'

John Redman wiped his brow. 'Holy smokes Dr Rachmann. Did it…?'

Phil was shaking. 'I. I don't know. I'm not sure.' He turned back to face Vicki and Charlie. Something seemed to be holding them together more closely. Vicki's face seemed a little different somehow, not as tight, not as pinched. 'Are you ok?' he asked uncertainly.

Vicki sniffed and nodded. 'Yeah, I feel ok.' She sniffed again and looked around her. 'I'm really pleased you guys came to see the show tonight, you should come more often.' Vicki said casually.

Charlie beamed and Phil gave a chuckle. 'That's my girl' he said. Behind them John Redman softly coughed for their attention. 'If Vicki's ready, we could user her help now.'

--

The waited outside the doorway; around them, the music was still pumping through the air, shaking the little house. Luka caught Daniel's eye... 'So. Where you been, Daniel?'

Daniel looked up. 'You know.'

Luka shook his head. 'As a matter of fact, no I don't know. Last I knew, you died at the scene.'

Daniel remained silent.

'You nearly killed me you know.' Luka said, putting a hand on the back of his neck and stretching his head from side to side.

Erles smacked Luka on the shoulder.

Luka recoiled. 'Hey! What's with everyone giving me a hard time?'

'Let sleeping cats lie.' Erles said pointedly.

'You mean dogs.' The Reverend corrected.

A figure came bounding over from the pathway.

'Wachowski!' Rogers yelled.

Luka rolled his eyes. 'And the hits just keep on coming. Yes Rogers, _what?'_

Rogers pulled up short, looking at the peculiar assembly of men. 'Where have you been?' Rogers demanded. 'The perps just run in there!' he said, pointing at the hall. 'He's armed.'

'Who's armed?' James asked.

Luka made a throat cutting gesture but Rogers plunged ahead. 'A suspect in the killing of Sara Wainright…'

Luka grabbed at Rogers lapels and tried to pull him to the side, but the damage was done.

'Sara? Sara's _dead_?' Daniel lifted his face. His eyes were red rimmed, dark pits. 'Who did this?_ Who did this?_' he screamed.

'We think her son…' Rogers tried calling over Luka's shoulder. Luka fairly head butted him. Rogers danced backwards and swung a fist at the side of Luka's jaw. 'What the fuck Wachowski!'

Luka rubbed his jaw and smiled sadly at Rogers sadly. 'Detective Rogers, I'd like you to meet Daniel, Daniel _Wainright_, formerly of the Children of the Faithful community at Keepers Hill. Daniel, this is Rogers, an explanation for why I don't have a partner.'

Rogers dropped his fists. 'Oh. Crap.' He said. 'Sorry.'

Daniel stepped forward. 'Who killed her??'

Luka raised his hands, trying to push the forces that were propelling Daniel back down. 'Whoa there, Daniel.'

Daniel fumed. 'I _know_ my mistakes Detective. I _know_ my sins and what I will need to pay for them. We _all_ pay for our sins.'

Luka stepped into his personal space, nose to nose. 'You left her for dead in a burning building that you set fire to, for Christ's sake.'

'Not for _his _sake' The Reverend interrupted. Both Daniel and Luka turned for a moment to glare at the Reverend, and then resumed their face off.

'Worse than that Daniel. I read her records. In and out of foster care, abused, addicted. When you set fire to that building, you cut her loose from her family, so you don't get to come the righteous avenger.'

Daniel gritted his teeth.

Luka nodded. 'That's right. You doomed her to a cycle of viciousness, that's what killed her. You're to blame.'

Daniel sagged a little, falling back half a step. 'I thought so.' Luka said. 'You are going to do nothing. Not a thing. You are going to let _us_ take care of this, and maybe we'll let you arrange a proper burial for your sister.' Luka waited until Daniel had fallen a little more in on himself and then turned his back on him, motioning to Rogers.

Rogers followed him.'

"Look, sorry about that Wachowski, I didn't know...' Rogers began once they were out of earshot.

'Yeah yeah.' Luka said, irritated. 'This is all a bit involved, we just need to watch this one. He has a history. Where is the perp now?'

Rogers blinked at the understatement but pointed at the hall. 'He ran in there.'

Luka frowned. 'Crap.'

Rogers nodded. 'Yeah, and the Chief was here.'

It was Luka's turn to look surprised. 'The Chief came down?'

'Something about homeland security, a van exploded a few miles back,'

Luka made a wry face. 'Ah. Yeah. Ok. I can explain, the…Well, that will, um, ah. Hmm.' He stopped. 'Ah screw it. Let's concentrate on bringing the son down smoothly.'

Rogers shook his head, gesturing at the crowds. 'No. The Chief said to let him run, too dangerous to start something here.'

'Right' said Luka. 'Right. So we just let this night end and we come at him again some other time, yeah?'

James put a hand on Daniels shoulder. 'It wasn't you.' James whispered. 'It wasn't you. I saw her. _She_ made the fire. _She_ burned the hall.'

Daniel grasped James hand. 'No….'

'Damn it Prophet, she _did_. I saw her!'

It caught Daniel before he had time to correct James and tell him again that he wasn't the prophet.

'I saw it.' James said urgently. 'I was outside. She came in with fire and then the building exploded.'

Daniel shook his head, trying to clear it. 'No, it doesn't matter, it was already…'

'She killed your father, the prophet!' James insisted. 'You can't leave it unavenged!'

Daniel ignored it, clarity returning to him. 'Did that policeman say Sara's son was the suspect?'

James stopped speaking.

Daniel regarded him sadly. 'Did you know?'

James looked away. 'Aaron's had…trouble. You knew about it.'

Daniel shook his head sadly. 'How did this happen? How did we let this happen? And the things he said about, about Sara?'

James grimaced. 'You were away so long, we were hunted, persecuted. You know we couldn't stay together. Sara…she got lost in the cracks.'

Daniel looked to the skies. 'It would have been better if it _had_ ended back there. Oh lord, where is thy mercy?'

John Redman appeared at the Kitchen door.

'It's done.'


	43. Chapter 42

Luka scowled at John Redman

'What is going on?' Rogers asked as the Reverend followed John Redman back into the house. 'Old business Rogers. You can come if you want, but you don't say anything. I mean _anything.' _Luka raised his hand. 'I'm not kidding. For however long this takes, however weird this gets, you keep shtum, capiche?'

Rogers frowned at the mixed metaphors, raised his palms in acceptance and followed as Luka turned about and stepped up into the Kitchen.

John Redman guided the old man and Felipe to the head of the table. John Rainbirds bandaged chest rose and fell, almost imperceptibly, the open flesh drying and cracking.

John looked around the room. 'Vicki, come and stand here by me.'

Vicki looked at her mother and Phil. Charlie nodded. Vicki stepped over to the body.

'Come closer.' John urged. They moved in to the table until they surrounded the body.

'What now?' Phil asked softly.

John took a deep breath. 'We prepare the way for him. We tell the song of John Rainbird and we ask the spirits to receive him.' John lifted his hands towards the ceiling. 'This wont do. He needs to be under an open sky.'

'Grab the table guys.' Luka said, bending over to grasp the edges. The men obliged and took the sides of the table.

Careful, careful.' Erles said, guiding them out and down the stairs. 'I don't think this will fit through the doorway'

Charlie touched the door frames. 'Brick huh?' she said, patting the wall.

Daniel looked away. Charlie gave a half-smile and blew gently on the door frame. The door edge sparked as if it were alight. 'Brick burns too Daniel.' Charlie murmured. She blew again and the wall crumbled in a neat arc on either side of the table. Rogers eyes went wide. Luka glared at him. With the newfound space, the group were able to gently lift the table and step down onto the grass.

'To the side.' The Reverend suggested. 'It's too noisy here.'

They walked the table a few feet beside the house and into the shadows, the house shielding them from the blast of the music

As they lowered the table, it slipped on the sloping ground and the figure slid perilously forward, skin sliding on skin with a tearing sound.

'Get on with it Redman, he didn't even feel that.' Luka said worriedly. John nodded and held up his hands to the open sky.

'Ancestors, a Brave is ready to join you. He is fleet of foot, keen of eye. He has brought death to our enemies and food to our bellies.' John looked at Charlie. 'He has sought the great spirit in places ill befitting so strong a warrior. He has taken the life of innocents.' Charlie frowned but said nothing.

John looked around them. 'Damn it.' He swore. 'I need something. I need a sign.'

'He's a bad man John. Maybe they don't want him?' Charlie offered helpfully.

Erles put a restraining hand on her shoulder and Charlie fixed him with a stare.

'Can you not give him the last rites?' Felipe asked the Reverend.

The Reverend shook his head. 'What you people really need is a Catholic.' he muttered.

The sound of branches swaying in the trees near the house was audible even above the music. A pair of yellow eyes blinked in the darkness, soft and yellow like an old miner's lamp. A hollow hooting sound floated out from the dark.

'The ancestors are present.' murmured John Redman. 'They wish to hear his song and judge whether he is fit to join them. Who will speak on John Rainbirds behalf?'

The group looked at one another uncertainly. The Blind Man coughed for their attention. 'I will.' He said, turning his head towards the glowing eyes blinking in the dark. 'Many years ago, a Great tribe drove John's people from the plains and into the hills, made them poor; starved them. John Rainbird fought to save his people the only way he knew how. He joined the Great Tribe and became a warrior, fighting its wars.' The Old Man frowned. 'But the Great Tribe got lost along the way, so convinced we needed to be safe that we confused our own people with our enemies.' The Old Man looked at Charlie. 'John ran counter intelligence for an offshoot of a program called MK Ultra, its unholy hidden child; the Project. We chose to do these bad things because we thought we needed to. Things we did to Andy McGee and Vicki Anderson. Things we did to Jonas Magnusson, your Viejo Felipe.' The old Man said with a sad smile, touching Felipe's arm. 'John kept the program safe. He was our greatest warrior. I speak for him.'

'So Speaks the Great Tribe.' said John Redman. 'Who will speak for the victims?'

Phil nudged Charlie. Charlie folded her arms. 'I already did my bit' she said curtly. Phil nudged her again. 'Ok fine!' she grumbled. She took a deep breath. 'John Rainbird was kind to me once.' She fell silent.

'That's it?' whispered Erles.

'He tried to _kill _me' Charlie hissed at him.

Erles shrugged. 'You can be quite trying.'

John Redman quickly moved on. 'Who will speak for the innocents?'

Felipe pointed to Vicki. 'Vicki will.'

Vicki looked at him in surprise. 'Why me?'

Felipe shrugged. 'You haven't done anything wrong.'

Charlie winced.

'Christ almighty, no one here is innocent, ok?' Luka said, exasperated. 'We are all guilty as hell, now get on with it!'

John Redman bared his teeth as if he was about to shout in reply but a hooting interrupted him.

'I think they're laughing.' Erles observed. John raised an eyebrow. You do?'' He looked back into the darkness as the hooting stopped. John sighed. 'I think that's it then.'

'Not quite.' The Blind Man said. 'John Rainbird conducted tests of his own. On his own people. One of them, he took for a wife. Someone should speak for the family.'

'I speak for the tribe, that's close enough.' John said and took John Rainbird hands, gently cradling it. 'Hear my words then, John Rainbird. Your debts to the tribe are paid.'

John motioned for Vicki to come to him. 'Look into his eyes Vicki. Look into his eyes.'

Vicki looked at John Rainbirds ruined face and quickly looked away. She tried again; this time, she was able to hold her gaze.

The owl hooted.

The thing on the table grasped Vicki's hand and started pulling her towards it.

Luka and Phil instinctively braced her shoulders. 'Redman, this isn't right!' Luka yelled.

'Sssssssssshow meeeeeeee' John Rainbird hissed, drawing Vicki downwards. Vicki shrugged Phil and Luka off, hauling John Rainbird up face to face. 'Look into my eyes then, John Rainbird.' Vicki said. 'What do you see?'

'deathhhhhh' John Rainbird hissed.

Vicki shook her head. 'No, it's peace. Peace, John Rainbird. Peace'

The music seemed to die away and light flashed around them.

Vicki spoke.

'Peace, even though I don't think you deserve it. Peace, even though you did some bad things, but I think we all did some bad things. It's the end now John.'

Images and thoughts began to whirl through Charlies Mind. Luka and John Rainbird staggered. The circle was buffeted by sights and sounds.

_Dalton looked at Charlie through the glass and wire. His eye was blackened and his face still had freshly dried blood on it. Charlie held a hand to her mouth. 'Take the deal' she screamed at him. 'Take the fucking deal, for the love of me, for the love of your child!', but Dalton just smiled and shook his head. 'One last promise. Promise me you'll send him to heaven' he told her._

'Peace John Rainbird'

_She was so beautiful. It was amazing that he had enough nerve to get this close. Ever since that kid… 'Birdwatching.' He told her. 'Ok, so I lied.' He added. 'I'm…looking for a place to grow my PhD crop.'_

'No more pain. No more suffering. Just rest'

_Cassie was with child now. She would be called Sara Deborah and be born dark haired and bawling. They would live together in tract housing, he would work in management and she would…Cassie was in_

Let go now. You aren't burning anymore, the fire is gone. It's burnt to ashes.

_The old man shook his head. 'You're no son of mine, you queer.' Erles threw his head back and laughed. 'And you always had appalling taste.'_

The rain will wash the ashes away John Rainbird. Let go

_3am and Luka was still awake, his heart pounding. When you turn on the lights, the dream doesn't go away. They're still there, still burning._

_LET GO!_

A tremendous roar erupted from the throat of John Rainbird, throwing them all backwards, save Vicki, who clung to the skeletal hand. 'Do you see it?'

_John Rainbird __looked at the young girl. She would show him the way, through the portals in her eyes as the light slipped away. He saw it, it was coming closer, now he would get a glimpse, after all this time, he would…_

The skeletal fingers slipped from her palm.

'Get away from the table.' Charlie yelled, hauling Vicki backwards. 'This one's for you, Dad,' she said and touched the edge of the table.

John Redman's ruined body burst into a shaft of intense light that flared and was gone, leaving only a pile of ashes.

John Redman grabbed Charlies arm, yelling 'Was that really necessary?'

Charlie pushed him away. 'Yes. Yes it was. You got him his peace, now I have mine.'

'Well?' asked Erles. 'Was that right? Did it work?'

John looked at the soot smeared faces gathered about him and then back to the darkness beside the house. From somewhere in the dark, a lone, mournful howl soared through the night air. John Redman nodded, fell to his knees and threw up. Luka clapped the kneeling figure on the shoulder. 'I know exactly what you mean.'

'Vicki? Would you do something for me?' Felipe asked. Vicki turned to look at him. 'Maybe you could.' Felipe looked at the Blind Man.

Vicki shook her head. 'I'm sorry Felipe, what do you want me to do?'

'Let _him_ see. Let him see so that he can understand.'

'Don't concern yourself my dear. I see more _now_ than I ever did with my eyes.' Jim said.

Vicki approached him and he put up a hand to fend her away. She pushed past and lifted his sunglasses. The eyes were clear and bright blue.

'You're afraid' she said. Jim winced.

'Vicki, let him alone.' Charlie said.

'No way mom. I'm old enough to decide what's right on my own.' Vicki said over her shoulder.

Phil grinned from ear to ear and nudged Charlie, tousling her hair. 'All grown up huh?' he murmured. Charlie frowned.

Vicki put her hands on the Blind Man's shoulders. 'Ok, um, Jim. I want you to see.'

Jim shook his head. 'I don't think there's any...'

'There's nothing wrong with your eyes!' Vicki yelled, exasperated.

'You can't fix this!' Jim yelled in reply. They both stopped speaking. Vicki watched as his eyes tracked hers. Jim blinked. He blinked again. A smile exploded across his face and some of his wrinkles seemed to evaporate. 'Uncle Jim, you can _see_' Felipe said.

Daniel fell to his knees. 'It's a miracle' he said.

'Oh don't start that again' Charlie complained under her breath.

Felipe threw his arms around Vicki and hugged her. 'Thankyou, thankyou' he said. Jim took a step back, blinking, looking at his hands. He looked up at Charlie. 'I, I didn't come here for this. I didn't deserve it.'

'Well none of us deserve what we get really, do we?' Charlie replied.

A voice shouted 'Vicki!' Ronny lumbered into view, breaking through the crowd. 'The OB guys want to us to run another set, the…oh.' He drew to a halt as he reached the strange looking group standing around what appeared to be the ashes of a campfire. 'Hi Mrs Manders.' Ronny said, nodding to Charlie. 'Great of you to make it. You see the job Vicki has done?'

Charlie smiled broadly and walked over to give Vicki another hug. 'Yes Ronny. Thank you. She's very special.' Vicki almost wilted under the praise. Charlie gave her a kiss on the cheek. 'You should take care of your show. Maybe afterwards, we can all sit down and talk…about…um…stuff.' Charlie finished weakly.

'Let's go' Ronny said and turned around, heading back towards the hall. Vicki hugged her Charlie in reply and set off after Ronny.

'Hey! We can't! Oh shit.' Luka said, as they ran off. 'Aaron's still up there.' Rogers bounded after them. Luka grabbed Charlie arm. 'You better come with me, we might need, _you know_'

'Don't hurt him, he's just a child.' Daniel said, getting up from his knees. 'He's a sinner, but it's…'

Luka groaned. 'Well come on then!' he snorted impatiently and they set off at a run, diving into the crowd. 'Reverend, Mr Nygaard, perhaps you should assist.' Jim suggested. The Reverend nodded and dragged Erles protestingly into the crowd after the detectives. Jim waited until they were gone, marvelling at his hands in the dim light, holding them up to view. 'I can't believe how much I missed it. It's a gift Dr Rachmann; it's a wonderful and terrible gift.'

'Yes' said Phil thickly.

'Does our agreement still stand?' Jim asked quietly. Phil looked away. In the darkness, the two bright eyes of the owl blinked.

Jim reached for his phone and dialled a number. 'Steve? It's Jim. It's been confirmed.'

-

Aaron's heart was pumping. He felt cold and slick. Like someone had dipped him in oil. All around him were smiling faces, a sea of sicko's cheering and clapping and that incessant pounding music.

The cop would come after him for sure. Even worse would await when all this came crashing in, and his Uncle would be apoplectic. Aaron shoved another body out of his way and plunged into the main hall. 'Shit' he muttered. The place was packed with even more drooling morons. They all seemed so fricking _happy_, it was disgusting.

There was only one thing that would improve his mood, so he continued pushing through the crowd towards the short hallway to the rear kitchen. It was clear of people and Aaron almost ran through the empty space until he reached the store room. It was locked.

Aaron tried the door handle again but it remained shut. He snarled and gave it a kick, breaking the lock and flinging the door to a stop against a column of canned tomatoes. He switched on the lights and blinked, then wedged the door shut again with a box of cans. The small tin he kept his glass pipe in was rattling against loose bullets in his pocket. He withdrew the revolver and put it on a stack of boxes, then quickly assembled the rest of his gear. He opened the tin and smiled at the small plastic pouch inside and tipped a few glasslike shards into the pipe. He began to calm as soon as the pipe touched his lips, even before the acrid smoke bit into his lungs. He could feel the electricity racing through him once again.

The cops wouldn't try anything now, there were too many people. All he had to do was mingle with the crowd and he could slip away back down the path and through the fields. He knew some folks in Charlotte that he could stay with, and he could hitch a lift or steal a car to get there. Aaron winced. His Uncle was gonna be pissed. God damn it, it wasn't his fault. Mom was a crazy bitch and she deserved what she got. They all deserved it. All this Jesus crap and god loves me, well what has he ever done for me? Aaron clenched his teeth, grinding them back and forth in anger. He attacked the glass bowl with the lighter and held down the resulting plume of smoke until his eye bulged, forcing more of it into his bloodstream. His arms and hands tingled. His mind was Crystal Clear. Everything made sense. He heard the sounds of Music starting up again and he flipped open the revolver, slotting each of the loose rounds in his pocket into the gun with smooth ease. His hands had stopped shaking. He breathed out a white cone of smoke, feeling everything settle into place. Showtime.

-

JJ ran back inside the hall and sagged against a wall. The playing was taking a lot out of him. He felt exhilarated by the response of the crowd; but that wasn't what was making him happy. He had finally said it.

Just come right out and said it and she hadn't run away this time. He laughed, gloriously.

Rufus dropped his Bass beside him and collapsed, panting. The other boys filed past, accepting paper cups filled with water.

'Hell no!' Rufus said imperiously. 'I'm a rock star! Bring me a Cola!' The poor young thing who handed him the cup looked crestfallen. Rufus gave her a hug and took the water. 'I'm just messin with ya! Thanks!' Rufus slid up beside JJ. 'Whew. We're on fire tonight. Cheers.' Rufus handed JJ another paper cup and touched the edges together. Rufus downed his with a gulp and crumpled up the cup and threw it casually on the floor. 'See, that's Rock star behaviour man, knocking back moonshine, trashing the place.'

'It's water Ruf.' JJ noted, taking a sip and picking up the crushed cup.

Rufus grinned. 'Yeah? Well it tastes like moonshine to me! Damn this is a good gig.'

A man in wire rimmed glasses pushed through the crowd and waved for their attention. 'Hey boys, my names Peter. I'm with Channel Four, we're broadcasting this live.'

'We are?' Rufus said excitedly. 'All right! Channel four? My MOM is gonna see this!'

The man in glasses grinned. 'I just wanted to say you boys put on a great show and I hope you'll tell your producer how much we enjoyed having you on.'

JJ looked around. 'Where _is_ Vicki?'

'Your floor manager was looking for her. We were kind of hoping you'd do another set.'

'Yeah?' inquired Rufus, raising an eyebrow. 'How come?'

'We're going national at 10.' The man admitted. 'It would be _great_ exposure for you though…'

Rufus frowned. "Well….I'm not sure about this..'

JJ looked at him curiously. 'You're not?'

Rufus laughed. 'I'm just feeling very tricksy. I'm up for it, the guys would be too.'

Peter grinned. 'Great!' I'll just get it happening.' he said, making a hasty exit before they changed their mind.

'This is _it!_' Rufus chortled. 'National-facking-exposure JJ. The big time.'

JJ pushed himself away from the wall. 'That's great Ruf; I just want to find Vicki.'

Rufus groaned. 'Oh not again.'

'I told her I loved her.' JJ said. Rufus did a comic double take. 'Get outta here? _You_?'

JJ nodded.

'About damn time!' Rufus surged towards JJ and enveloped him in a bear hug.

JJ looked down at his friend, smiling. 'Yeah, I'm kind of a wuss around chicks.'

Rufus released him. 'Go find her dude, we've still got a few minutes.'

JJ shook his head. 'She'll find me when she's ready. Let's get tuned up, we have one more show to do.'

-

John Redman wiped his mouth and stood up. Phil was looking far away into the darkness. The light seemed to glint from his eyes; John felt a crawling sensation along his spine and his hand unconsciously crept towards his back. 'What are you two talking about?' he said.

Jim favoured him with his clear, bright eyes. 'I'm sorry John?'

'I'm getting a very strange vibe from you two right now.' John warned. 'Phil, where's Cassie?'

Phil didn't say anything.

John straightened up. 'Phil. I'm asking you where Cassie is.'

Phil sighed.

'She's safe John. She's away from all this.' Jim said, trying to soothe him. John Redman gritted his teeth. 'What's confirmed, _Jim_?'

Jim shook his head. 'It's none of your concern John.'

John smiled. 'The hell it isn't. Phil? _Dr_ Rachmann?' John gathered his feet into a stable stance. He calculated the distances between him and the old man. He saw Felipe's eyes widen, predicting violence.

'Mr John, it is safe now, the bad men are stopped.' Felipe said urgently.

'No Felipe' John said, looking between the old man and Phil. 'I think the bad men are here with us.'

Felipe shook his head violently. 'No Mr John. They are _good_.' Felipe tugged at Jims arm. 'You can see now, so everything will be ok, yes?'

Jim smiled sadly. 'Yes Felipe, everything will work out fine.'

John snorted. 'Don't believe it Felipe. Something's wrong.' John looked slowly up at Phil. 'I don't want to get Charlie angry, so I am going to ask you one last time where the fuck Cassie is and then I am going to make you tell me.' From behind Johns back, steel glittered in the dark.

'She's outside the cordon.' Phil said at last. 'Until after.'

'After _what?' _John snapped.

Jim sighed. 'The parties that Dr Rachmann and I represent have come to an agreement. That is all you need to know. Cassie is safe and well and will be returned to us at the conclusion of events.'

Johns hand grasped his knife blade and whirled it forward so quickly it became visible only as it stopped at the edge of the old mans throat.

Felipe's hand darted upwards and caught John's wrist. John found himself tugging to pull his hand back as something writhed _within_ it. The knife fell to the grass.

'Felipe, they're going to do something. This isn't right!' John yelled. Felipe's gaze narrowed. Felipe released John Redman's hand and stepped back to stand beside the old man. John felt at his wrist where _something_ hand been. It was free of any sign of injury.

'No, Uncle. He's not right, is he?' It took a moment for Jim to respond. Felipe's eyes widened. 'Uncle, what have you done?'

'Felipe, it's complicated.'

John Redman spat into the grass. 'Why don't you explain slowly then, like we're all three years old?'

'We are faced with the same choices we had all those years ago. Sacrifice for the greater good.'

'What sacrifice?' John looked at Phil. '_You?_' John felt his bile rise. 'You're sacrificing Charlie?'

Phil looked at the ground.

John made an intuitive leap. 'No. Not Charlie. You're sacrificing Vicki.'

'Uncle, tell me no' Felipe said. When Jim didn't respond, Felipe stepped away from him. 'None so blind as who will not see. You said it to me Uncle. You will not harm the girl, or I will take back from you what she has given.'

Jim remained motionless. 'As you will Felipe. We all pay the price for our sins.'

Felipe lowered his hands. 'I am not so stupid as you think. Mr John, it is Uncle Steve. He is here with a Rifle.'

John Redman bent down and retrieved his knife. 'A sniper? How classy of you.' he said to the old man.

'Are you willing to stake Cassie's life on interfering with this?' Jim warned.

John sheathed his knife. 'When Charlie finds out Phil, it's all over for you. You know that don't you.'

Phil nodded.

John clenched his hands in the air, grabbing at ghosts. 'Damn it. It's not too late to stop this, to find a better way. You made a phone call to start it. Call them back and stop it.'

Jim smiled. 'My dear Mr Redman. We just did.'

-

Aarons head was filled with a blistering white heat. He had looked at the diminishing pile of glass shards and thought, 'what the hey! Sometimes you got to _live_ a little!' so he sparked them up, sparked them all up. Now everything was Jake, but a little queasy, just a little slippery.

He stumbled out from the storeroom and into the kitchen. The cheap ass fluorescent tubes were buzzing incessantly. Buzz, hum, buzz. He could hear it all. The clock on the wall, the fridge gases circulating in and out; his breathing laboured and ragged. Buzz, buzz!

Aaron threw up. It just burped out of him and onto the floor. There was a tinge of blood in the trail of sick. 'Hey! I'm bleeding!' He thought. This was bad.

The white walls were reflecting the buzzing light back at him. He swatted it away and staggered out to the corridor. There were people everywhere again, no problem, he could just go out the side door, but oh no, there was that cop and Daniel. The men were waiting. They were waiting for _him_ and when they caught him, oh mercy. But the crowd! That would hide him. He could wait until the music started and blend in, all smooth and spy-like. Yes, that was a smart idea. Aaron turned out the lights in the kitchen and waited by the doorway, waiting for his moment.

-

Vicky noted that the cameras were in position. Josiah De Jean rushed up on her, blathering. 'Oh Vicki, isn't it wonderful, they've offered to take the whole show to Channel four, they're running live nationally in a few minutes, it's a miracle!'

Vicki smiled. 'Yes Josiah. Thank you.'

Josiah stopped mid stream of babbling. He looked at her with a fresh regard. 'No, thank _you_ Vicki.' He allowed himself a brief squeeze of her shoulder and used the momentum to propel her toward a man in wire rimmed glasses. 'Vicki, this is Peter…'

'Peter smiled. 'Hey Vicki, great work. We're really excited to have you guys…'

Vicki nodded but was drawn towards the stage area where the boys were setting up.

'Mr Vandreen, I'm really pleased to meet you, but I need to check in with the boys. Please excuse me.' Vicki said, shaking his hand and withdrawing.

Ronny, Josiah and Peter watched as she walked away.

'She's a dynamo!' Josiah exclaimed.

'Aint that the half of it.' Ronny said, grinning.

JJ saw Vicki approaching and smiled. 'Hey Vicki.'

'Hey JJ.' She said, watching him twisting the tuning keys on the head of the guitar.

'We're on again in a few minutes. Did they tell you we're going national?'

Vicki nodded. 'Yeah. That's great news.' She stopped. 'I never asked you, what does JJ stand for?'

JJ grinned at her. 'You can blame Rufus for that, he decided calling me…'

'One minute warning boys!' Ronny yelled, running over. 'We'll run three more songs and call it.'

'JJ!' Yelled Rufus. JJ quickly slipped the guitar strap over his shoulder. Vicki stepped into his path, face to face with him. 'When we're finished tonight, maybe you should pluck up the courage to ask me on a date!' she admonished. 'You can finish your story then.'

JJ let the guitar slide and grabbed her with both arms, 'Vicki, will you go on a date with me?'

Vicki nodded. 'Go on.' She said. 'Your adoring public awaits.' She pushed him towards the other boys, standing watching. 'Awwwww' they chorused.

JJ smiled and flipped them the bird. Vicki watched him run off after the guys, still smiling and quickly made her way back towards the control desk.

-

Luka scanned the edge of the crowd in the hall, looking for someone fitting Rogers description. Charlie hovered behind him as he craned his neck to see over the crowd.

Rogers was waiting outside with strict instructions not to interfere with the kid if he came out, just to leave him an exit route.

'Well?' Charlie called out.

'I can't see a goddamn thing' he complained.

'Maybe he's slipped away. You know Luka…I'm. I'm sorry, about the stuff I said.'

Luka nodded. 'I miss Dalton too you know.'

Charlie smiled sadly. 'Yeah. Every day.'

Vicky was walking back through the crowd. Charlie waved. Vicky waved in reply.

'Is everyone rrrrrreaddddy to gggggggosppelllll!!' roared a voice from the PA.

-

Aaron waited until the noise started and stepped out into the room. Lights, TV, Action! Aaron wanted to get out, to get some air, just a little air, because he wasn't feeling very well now, but they wouldn't move. They wouldn't move out of the way, so Aaron pushed them. They were all soft and sticky, like pushing his hands into dough. They didn't notice, they just smiled and yelled and sang and danced. Aaron began to question whether the little shards he had been smoking were altogether Meth, or maybe just a little bit of China White somewhere in the mix. Wouldn't put it past them, oh no.

Aaron saw the face of one of his Uncles men. Not good. He tried turning around but someone grabbed him. Aaron stuck his hand into his pocket and jerked the pistol sideways, firing. James grunted as the round caught him in the stomach and he sank to his knees. Someone screamed and the crowd began to part around them.

Aaron whirled around, brandishing the pistol. Enemies. Enemies, everywhere. The Cop. Daniel. They were all coming in, coming for him, but the way to the stage was clear. He could just run that way, so he did.

-

'That's him!' Luka said quickly as the crowd parted around a young man in an oversized denim jacket. 'Jesus, he's shot someone!' Luka yelled.

Charlie looked through the crowd for Vicki as they surged away from the danger. She was no more than a few feet from the armed man. Charlie was buffeted as the crowd streamed for the exits. 'Vicki!' she shouted. 'Vicki!'

-

JJ saw the crowd part. One of the men who had helped them set up in the hall was lying on the floor. There was a guy standing there, kind of turning in circles with a pistol in his hand, only a hairsbreadth from Vicki. JJ quickly stepped off the stage. 'Hey!' he called out. 'Dude!'

The young man spun around, raising the pistol. JJ held his hands out, letting the guitar hang on the strap in front of him.

'It's going to be ok man, you don't need to...'

-

Aaron looked to his left and right. Everywhere, _they_ were waiting.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eyes and reacted reflexively, swinging back to the movement and pulling the trigger.

-

The bullet passed over the top of the outstretched guitar JJ held out as a peace offering and pierced his heart.

-

Vicki screamed and ran to JJ as he toppled. She caught him as he reached the ground.

'JJ!' Rufus cried, jumping from the stage.

Vicki looked up at Aaron, still holding the gun. 'You killed him.'

The words resonated through the air, dispelling every other sound.

'You killed him.'

She took a deep breath.

'NO!' Charlie yelled. 'No Vicki, don't do it. Don't do it.' She ran to her daughter and put her hand over her mouth. Vicki struggled and fought against her; Charlie held her as tightly as she could, pressed to her, whispering; 'Please baby, listen to me, don't do it, don't take revenge. It'll eat you up, it will never go away, don't to it.' Vicki struggled and Charlie held her.

As she subsided, Charlie took her hand away and stroked her hair, 'shhhh, shhh, don't say a word.'

Aaron stared at the fallen guitarist. 'I'm sorry.' He said. 'I'm sorry.' He dropped the gun. Luka quickly scuttled forward and kicked the pistol away, dropping down beside James and checking thew wound in his stomach. 'You'll live.' He said. James nodded, ashen faced. Daniel followed him and stood beside Aaron, shaking his head.

'Is there a doctor here? We have two wounded people here.' Luka called to the crowd. Murmurs began to filter out through the door as people repeated the call.

Vicki cradled JJ's head in her lap and lifted her tear stained face to her mother. 'Mama. He's dead.'

Charlie felt the Big Bad shaking the very air with indignity, but she could do nothing except to say; 'I'm so sorry baby.'

'JJ's dead!' Rufus yelled. 'JJ's dead. Don't you hear me? He's DEAD!'

The crowd recoiled and a small figure in white pushed through, quick as lightning he ran to Luka.

Felipe bent down over James and patted his stomach, seeing him wince. 'You will be ok,' he said with a smile and then quickly turned to Vicki and tried to smile for her, just like his grandfather had taught him to; but he couldn't. She was so very sad.

'The shirt comes up.' He said.

Vicki remained motionless but Charlie began pulling JJ's T-shirt up.

'Hey! Leave him alone!' Rufus yelled at her and jumped backwards as something unseen and hot bit him. 'Here Felipe' Charlie said.

Felipe nodded thanks and plunged his hand into JJ's chest. After a moment, he withdrew his hand and checked JJ's pulse. He frowned. 'His heart was broken, but now it's not, but…I am...' he gulped. 'I am not strong enough.'

Charlie touched his brow with a cool hand. 'Thank you anyway Felipe.'

Vicky leaned over JJ's body and traced her fingers through his hair. She bent over him and touched her lips to his ear, whispering

'What are you doing?' Rufus yelled.

'She's praying you idiot.' Luka observed. 'Now shut the hell up.'

'This is all your fault!' Rufus thundered at Vicki, shaking his finger.

'Hey man, don't give her a hard time.'

'Shut up JJ.' Rufus snapped back.

The crowd gasped.

JJ sat up. 'Matthew 28:8' he said to Vicki.

Aaron fell to his knees, staring at JJ. One by one, the crowd followed his example.

'BEHOLD!' Daniel cried. 'HE is risen!'

JJ smiled at Vicki 'Was I right?'

END


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